


The Path We Share

by fiveTrillionElves



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All Route Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Excessive Beta because I have anxiety, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Like... really slow, Multi, New Game+ quite a bit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, There will probably be other minor ships eventually, Time Loop, With some fluff eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 59,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveTrillionElves/pseuds/fiveTrillionElves
Summary: "By the time you're forgetting your own age, you're past the point of caring."When Byleth first heard Jeralt say these words, she didn't quite understand what he meant. Now, after repeating the same years over and over again, she understands all too well. For decades she has fought a losing war against the Adrestian Empire, getting ever so slightly closer to victory with each death.But after narrowly surviving a brutal fight with Edelgard in the Imperial Palace and theoretically ending the war, she learns that her fight is not quite over. As she is coming to grips with this, she and her allies are annihilated by a weapon unlike anything they have seen before.Now she finds herself back at the beginning yet again, and decides she must attempt the unthinkable. She must work with someone she has spent decades trying to kill to uncover the truth behind the war and the truth behind who, or what, she is.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 35
Kudos: 177





	1. Beyond the White Light

**Garland Moon, 1185  
** **Byleth  
**

Byleth had always been uncomfortable in new situations. 

Formerly this discomfort could be attributed to the fact that, despite her best efforts, she found it completely impossible to relate to other humans. Their faces contorted and expanded in bizarre ways in response to various situations, and they seemed to be very distressed by the fact that her's didn't. She tried to understand their emotions and to move her face in the ways that their's did, but if anything that made them, and in turn her, more uncomfortable.

Now, several decades into her new... existence, that discomfort was more easily attributed to the knowledge that in every new situation there were a thousand new ways she could die. While this may seem like a paranoid mindset to have, she had to admit that she had died in some pretty stupid ways. For example, three years into a somewhat promising cycle her neck was broken by her horse tripping and falling on top of her. Sure she was able to try again, but it was more than a little frustrating.

A crackling red arrow streaked past her ear as she stopped to catch her breath. She heard a startled yelp to her left as a previously unnoticed imperial fortress knight collapsed into his massive armor.

“Thanks Claude,” she said, glancing over to the battered Archduke as he jogged to her side.

“Any time Teach,” he grinned, drawing back another arrow and loosing it into the chest of a distant black-robed mage. “Just keep your head on straight okay, we can’t lose focus now.” 

She nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder, letting her divine energy flow into his body. “The enemy broke through the north blockade and… we’ve lost contact with Lorenz and Hilda’s battalions.” He reported, taking a defensive position behind her.

Byleth swore violently under her breath. Her initial plan had been to advance slowly through the palace, taking care to blockade narrow passageways and funnel the imperial troops into their most durable warriors. This was supposed to be the slow but safe strategy. Evidently it was not actually that safe.

“Lysithea was able to knock part of the ceiling down to buy us some time, but that closed our main route out.” He continued, “I sent Seteth on his wyvern to rally the rest of our troops. He should be safe as long as he sticks to the rooftops.”

She had chosen to leave the majority of the Alliance army outside of the palace, because no matter how cavernous a place it was, it could still only hold so many soldiers. Unfortunately, she had underestimated the building’s size, and wasn’t prepared for the several imperial legions that Edelgard had managed to stash in its halls. Though Byleth had her most elite troops and trusted friends with her, she feared that the imperial numbers might just win the day. 

She briefly contemplated attempting to rewind back to before they entered the palace, but wasn’t convinced she was strong enough. Her heart ached worse than it had in a while and she worried that attempting to force another beat, especially one that long, would cause her to drop dead on the spot. She sorely missed the days when Sothis would handle the divine pulse for her, before it was tied to her own heartbeat.

“Are you sure about sending him off on his own?” Byleth asked, draining the life from an Imperial archer who was taking aim at Raphael, “Isn’t that an unnecessary risk?”

“A risk, certainly. But I would argue that it is entirely necessary,” Claude replied, “Besides, Edelgard needs her best troops in the palace, not watching the skies above it.” 

Byleth sighed. She really didn’t want to lose another friend today, but she knew that Claude was right. It was the only chance they had to contact the rest of the army. “We need to cut a path to the throne room,” she said, attempting to pinpoint Lysithea in the melee. “If you all can keep the Imperial soldiers off of me, I can take care of Edelgard.” 

“You sure you can handle her alone?” Claude asked, his eyes betraying more concern than he intended, “If we’re careful, we might be able to force her to surrender the city without any more bloodshed. I’m sure she’s just as sick of this violence as we are.” 

“I wish that were true, but she’s shown time and time again that she will do anything to secure victory. We’ve come this far, we can’t afford to underestimate her now. Lysithea, rally to me!” Byleth shouted over the conflict. 

“I’d love to argue that point, but I know you’re right my friend,” Claude sighed as Lysithea carefully hobbled her way over to where they stood, her battalion loosing jets of white hot flame at anyone who got too close.

If Byleth was honest with herself, Lysithea looked like she was on death’s door, her normally pristine white robe was caked with large bloodstains around several long, jagged tears in the fabric. Her visible skin was covered in dark bruises and she seemed like she was moments from passing out. 

“Don’t... worry about me,” she said quickly, noticing the concern in Byleth’s eyes, “What… What is it? What do you need?” She stumbled a bit as Byleth channeled a healing spell into her, gingerly shifting her weight back to her formerly injured leg. Even with the healing, she was visibly tired, and Byleth guessed she didn’t have much left in her.

“Do you think you can cut us a path to the throne room?” Byleth asked, hoping that Lysithea would be honest about her remaining stamina for once, “I can handle Edelgard if you can distract the Imperial soldiers.”

Lysithea blinked hard in an attempt to clear her vision. “Yes I… I think I could manage that.” She shook her head, gently slapping herself in the face to bring herself back to reality.

“Wait, hold on, no!” She blurted out as her mind fully returned to her body, “She’s probably waiting in there with her absolute best! We don’t… I don’t have enough strength left to hold off that many soldiers for that long.”

“It's the only option,” Byleth assured her, “Edelgard believes… no, knows that killing me will put an end to the war, and I know that killing her will do the same. This fight was going to come sooner or later. Please Lysithea, I need you to trust me.”

“Whatever’s happening needs to happen now!” Claude shouted behind him, releasing a spread of three arrows into the crowd, “We’ve got demonic beasts coming in from the west and I don’t know how much longer Raphael can hold them there!” 

“Fine,” Lysithea relented, signalling her battalion, “Just… don’t die okay.”

“Promise,” Byleth smiled, praying that she could keep that promise. She raised her blade above her head, hoping its crimson glow would draw the attention of her troops. “Soldiers of the Alliance, we march on the throne room! Today the Adrestian Empire falls!”

The air temperature around them skyrocketed as Lysithea’s battalion took their positions, their motions and chanting lost in the din of battle. Raising Thyrsus above her head, she channeled the energy gathered by her soldiers into a ten foot wide ball of roiling black energy. She thrust the staff downward, directing a titanic umbral beam slowly towards the door that carved a ditch into the ornate stone floor as it moved.

Byleth followed it closely, using the magical darkness to disguise her progress as soldiers from both factions evacuated the route to the throne room. A battalion of Alliance heavy guard covered her path, fending off any Imperial soldiers that attempted to stop her. She slowed as the beam carved a hole in the imposing steel doors, carefully avoiding the molten metal that dripped from above as she leapt across the threshold.

* * *

Golden light from the setting sun fell heavily through the bank of windows into the throne room. It sparkled off the dust that floated lazily through the stuffy air, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the chaos unfolding outside. Titanic forty foot high pillars rose from the marble floors, holding aloft the buttressed ceiling and domed skylights that revealed the amber sky above. The room was adorned with brilliant crimson banners and a long, now somewhat singed carpet that lead from the door to the dais, atop which was the imposing golden throne.

She heard Alliance soldiers funneling into the room behind her, their footsteps echoing through the hall as they took in the scene before them. Frailnaught’s string cracked violently as Claude unleashed another arrow into the chamber behind them, his battalion keeping a watchful eye on him as he made his way in. 

Byleth took stock of the forces they were up against. A line of a dozen or so Imperial fortress knights stood between the pillars leading up the throne, with a number of lighter troops positioned carefully around the room. She thanked the goddess that there didn’t appear to be any demonic beasts present, but had a feeling there could be at a moments notice if Edelgard desired. Two gremory flanked the throne, staves at the ready.

And there she was, at the center of it all. 

Edelgard Von Hresvelg.

She glowered down from her vantage, her piercing violet eyes filled with a mix of emotions that Byleth could not fully identify. She wore ornately decorated golden armor that glowed in the light of the sun, her heavy pauldrons adorned with long black feathers that wrapped around the back of her neck and trimmed the blood red cloak that fell to her ankles. In her right hand, she held her mysterious relic, Aymr, its head twitching unnaturally as the magic from her Crest flowed through it. In her left, she carried a massive kite shield bearing the twin headed eagle of the Empire, its surface pristine and unscarred by the horrors of war. At her hip, Byleth spotted the familiar blade of the Sword of Seiros, likely stolen from Rhea after she was captured.

“I must confess I never imagined that you would be able to pursue me this far,” she said coldly, beginning to slowly descend the steps. She moved with a grace that seemed impossible given the weight of her armor. “I don’t mean to belittle your skills Byleth, but you've far surpassed my expectations.”

“It's nice to know you make a habit of underestimating me,” Byleth replied, trying to mask her abject terror with clever words. She began to advance cautiously towards the throne clutching the Sword of the Creator in both hands, her eyes fixed on Edelgard’s as she prayed that they did not betray her fear. This was the first time she had fought Edelgard here, and she was determined to make it the last.

“Do not misinterpret my words,” Edelgard said as she reached the bottom of the steps. The fortress knights parted like the sea before a prophet, allowing her to continue her slow advance. “I learned long ago not to underestimate you personally. It was the strength of your forces... and the strength of your allies that I doubted. I have to admit, you have made ingenious use of your resources. 

“But the time for schemes ended the moment you set foot in this chamber. So come forward, it’s time for me to end this!” She launched herself from her stance, streaking towards Byleth in a flash of red and gold. 

Byleth instinctively rolled out of the way of a shield bash and deflected a fireball shot by one of Edelgard’s gremory. She channeled some power through her Crest, using the extra seconds to lash out towards a weak point in Edelgard’s armor.

Much to Byleth’s surprise, Edelgard’s form flickered as she twisted out of the way, looping her axe head around Byleth’s blade. Byleth quickly pulled the Sword of the Creator back as Aymr’s jaw snapped shut with a sound like breaking bone. 

Byleth charged forward, passing her sword to her left hand. She slammed the blade into Edelgard’s massive kite shield, using the distraction to shove a fistful of divine magic into her rib cage. She recoiled as the blow impacted and pain shot through her hand up to her shoulder. Punching Edelgard felt like punching a brick wall. 

Edelgard stumbled back, her plackart dented and still glowing softly in the spot where Byleth’s fist had connected. Byleth took another step forward, lunging towards Edelgard’s face.

Much to her dismay, the momentum of her blow caused her to fail to respond properly as Edelgard deftly leapt backward. She used the movement to swing Aymr in a wide overhead arc, catching Byleth in her right shoulder. She screamed and dodged backwards instinctively, a motion which caused the axe head to tear painfully from her flesh.

Edelgard took the chance to step back as well. Despite her stature, Byleth always felt like she was looking down on her. It was rather annoying. 

She was dimly aware of the Empire and Alliance forces clashing around them, but it seemed that they were all giving them their due space, leaving a wide circle in the center of the room for them to fight in. Heroes Relics had a nasty habit of unleashing tremendous power when smashed together, and nobody but their wielders wanted to be around when they did. 

“You know,” Edelgard remarked, “I thought, no, hoped, when you came to the academy that I could convince you to join the Empire when the time came.” 

She settled herself, her body tense like a coiled spring. Byleth brought her hand up to her injured shoulder, channeling just enough healing energy into it to close her wound and return feeling to the arm. “I even thought that perhaps you and I could be friends... But I see now that Rhea has blinded you to the truth just like she has blinded everyone else.”

She charged forward once again, holding her axe above her head in both hands. Byleth dodged backward as Aymr slammed into the floor, its impact carving a deep gash in the marble. The blade flashed with Crest energy as Edelgard wrenched it from the stone, sending a wave of arcane force crashing into Byleth. She tumbled backwards, her journey coming to a sudden stop as she collided painfully with a column. 

Her vision swam as Edelgard sprinted forward, determined to deny Byleth any kind of quarter. Byleth ducked below her swing as Aymr cut into the pillar, filling the air with a thick spray of dust that clouded their vision.

Byleth took the chance to roll out of the way. She stole a second using her Crest to launch her blade forward, looping it around Edelgard’s shield and into the joints of her armor. The unexpected strike caused Edelgard to drop her guard, allowing Byleth to twist the sword back, cutting a gash in Edelgard’s forearm as the blade returned to its hilt. 

Edelgard winced as she tested her shield arm, but no amount of Crest based strength could accommodate for that kind of injury. She tossed the shield aside, its impact sending the clang of echoing metal into the chaotic din in the throne room. 

Byleth winced as she heard a pained cry ring out from Claude somewhere behind her. She gave herself an extra second to glance back, noting one of Claude’s arms hanging limply by his side. He was fending off an advancing war master with a handaxe, but he was losing ground. She knew Claude’s Crest of Riegan gave him more stamina than most, and prayed that it was enough to see the battle through.

“I suppose you think you can defeat me. Is that right?” Edelgard proclaimed, meticulously advancing towards Byleth, “But I will never give up. Even if my arms and legs failed me, I would still find a way to move forward. I will smash that false goddess and her minion into the ground! I will fight to free this world from her vile grasp!”

“You’re wrong! You’ve always been wrong! Time and time again!” Byleth shouted, launching herself forward. She arced her sword upward as Edelgard lashed out with her axe. The blades collided explosively, releasing blast of Crest energy that sent them both flying backwards. They twisted through the air, both stumbling as they landed. 

“People were free! They were happy! At least until you came along and plunged the continent into this horrible war! How many lives have been lost in your pointless crusade?” She lashed out with her sword, its links rattling as they flew towards Edelgard’s throat.

As the blade made its way through the air, Byleth saw Edelgard’s form flicker as her body shifted positions faster than humanly possible. She had looped her axe head around the extended blade, and before Byleth could pull away, Aymr’s jaw snapped shut. She pulled her weapon back and released the axe at the top of its arc, ripping the Sword of the Creator out of Byleth’s hands and sending both relics into one of the decorative fountains that flanked the dais. 

“Do you truly believe that my cause is unjust Byleth?” She asked as she leaned in and charged forward, whipping the Sword of Seiros out of its sheath. Byleth drew the small dagger she kept on her hip which was, unfortunately, her best option at the moment. 

She dodged backwards as Edelgard took her first wide swing with the sword. This kind of weapon was clearly not Edelgard’s forte, she wielded and swung it like she did Aymr, but the feather weight sword was better for smaller, quicker cuts.

“You’ve seen how Rhea uses her power,” Edelgard said as she pressured Byleth with slash after slash, occasionally nicking her with the blade. Byleth dodged and weaved as best she could, once or twice sneaking in for a quick cut with her dagger or a divine punch, but Edelgard’s relentlessness and the restorative properties of the sword guaranteed that she swiftly healed any damage Byleth could deal.

Something else was bothering Byleth though. She had always heavily relied on her Crest to outwit her opponents, but she was now finding its power unreliable at best. She had heard that her form flickered sometimes during battle, most likely when she used her crest’s power to act outside of the normal flow of time, but she was finding those stolen moments weren’t just hers in this fight. 

“She created this brutal, irrational world we live in.” Edelgard pressed, “Where people are placed in positions of power solely because of the conditions of their birth and not because of their merit. Where noble families will throw away the lives of countless children just so they can dote on the only one that bears a Crest.” She lashed out again, twisting the blade unexpectedly so that it cut a deep gash in Byleth’s thigh. 

She cried out as she dodged away, releasing a burst of divine energy to give herself some space. Edelgard slid a few yards back, stabilizing herself by impaling the ground with her sword. Byleth felt something building inside her as Edelgard spoke, the horrible ache from her silent heart had slowly grown into a burning pain that coursed through her muscles and clouded her vision.

“And while we quarrel amongst ourselves she stands in her opulent cathedral, aloof and untouchable. Sending out her private, fanatical army to indiscriminately slaughter anyone she believes will threaten the vile system that she has upheld for centuries. All so she can keep the people of Fodlan under her twisted rule!”

The soldiers around them fought on, but Byleth knew somewhere deep inside that the tide of battle was turning in the Empire’s favor, just as the tide of their battle had turned in Edelgard’s. 

Raphael and his troops had managed to reach the door, but Byleth worried that it would be too little to late. The man himself looked as if he was barely standing, and most of his soldiers were in similar states. She briefly thought she heard Alliance reinforcements coming from somewhere far away, but feared that her mind was playing tricks on her in an attempt to convince her that she wasn’t going to die here.

Edelgard launched herself forward, sword held behind her ready for a wide slash. Byleth dodged backwards as she approached, struggling to keep her focus through the pain. Edelgard flickered at the last second, whipping the sword into a brutal thrust. It dug into the space between two of Byleth’s ribs and knocked the breath from her lungs.

“I only wish I could have made you see the truth before it came to this,” Edelgard said, her voice tinged with melancholy as she took hold of Byleth’s armor to prevent her from pulling away. Byleth’s vision went white and she felt herself begin to drift away in much the same way she had so many times before. But the burning within her refused to let her leave, tying her to her body like an anchor tying a ship to the sea floor. “But our paths diverged long ago, and it's time for yours to-”

“Enough!” Byleth shrieked as the agony pounding through her body reached a breaking point. A massive holy nova burst out of her, knocking Edelgard off her feet and wrenching the sword from her grasp. Without thinking, Byleth ripped the blade from her chest, sending a splatter of blood across the marble floor. But even as her body cried out in protest, she felt the radiant energy swirling around her seal her wounds and dull the pain.

“I've come too far and lost too many friends to die here!” She screamed as holy fire sprang eagerly from her hands, each successive blast of divine magic causing Edelgard to stumble further and further back. The soldiers around them quickly pulled away in an attempt to get out of range of the waves of light coming off each strike.

“You say that our paths diverged long ago, but its not mine that will end today. It. Is. Yours!” She felt something well up in the heavens above and raised her hand towards the sky. The rumble of thunder sounded from overhead as the ceiling above Edelgard began to crack, brilliant white light shining through the seams. As she thrust her hand downward, an explosion of blinding gold broke through the palace roof, consuming Edelgard’s form in a column of divine light. Her scream was drowned out by the din of the ceiling crashing down on her, filling the chamber with a thick cloud of dust and smoke.

Byleth’s chest heaved as her rage subsided, waves of holy energy burning off of her like fire suddenly denied its fuel. She was dimly aware of the deathly silence around her, but at this moment it was not relevant. She attempted to pinpoint Edelgard in the debris, using the soft glow from the Sword of Seiros to illuminate her path through the choking air. As the haze cleared, she saw Edelgard’s form amid the rubble, a formless crimson shape in the dust. 

She was still breathing, but only barely. Her eyes opened slowly as she heard Byleth approach, but the exotic cocktail of emotions that had burned in them during their battle was gone, their formerly vibrant violet color dimmed to a hollow grey. She propped herself up on a shaky arm and coughed a not insignificant amount of blood onto the already ruined carpet. 

“I hoped that you would hold nothing back.” She said weakly, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper, “But I suppose you were just toying with me. Is that it? I thought you would at least give me the honor of facing you-”

She stopped suddenly as she fell into another coughing fit. Byleth wasn’t sure why she hesitated. She had spent so many years waiting for this exact moment, so why couldn’t she make herself strike the final blow?

Edelgard took a breath, though even from here Byleth could tell that it was weaker than the last, “Truthfully, if I am to fall by anyone’s hand... I’m glad it was by yours...”

She looked up a Byleth, her tears washing away lines of dust on her face as they fell, “But... before you claim your victory… please... promise me something.”

Byleth pulled the Sword of Seiros back, feeling as if blade had somehow quintupled in weight.

“Promise me... that you will remember what I said here today... and that you will lead Fodlan justly. Not by her twisted creed, but by your o-”

She thrust the blade forward, piercing Edelgard’s skull through her crown. She fell to the ground with a dull thud as Byleth withdrew the sword, her body barely disturbing the dust that had settled on the floor of the chamber. 

Byleth wasn’t sure how long she stood over Edelgard’s body. The quiet dripping of blood from her blade was the only sound her mind was able to process. The world around her felt so far away. 

She had won. 

After all this time... 

It was over. 

As she drifted back to reality, she slowly started to process the sounds of raucous cheering around her. Alliance soldiers whooped and hollered as the Imperial troops they had been engaged with only moments before began to drop their weapons. She approached the throne, retrieving the relics from where they had fallen. She marched more confidently than she felt to the top the dais, hefting Aymr in both hands. She raised the weapon above her, letting the light from it’s macabre head shine in the eyes of the crowd.

“Soldiers of Adrestia!” Byleth shouted, gazing out over the troops before her, “Your emperor has fallen and your greatest generals have been defeated. I implore you, lay down your weapons, and no further harm will come to you!”

* * *

Rounding up the rest of the imperial forces was arduous, but over the course of the next several hours the Alliance army was able to subdue them without too much additional conflict. Seteth was able to successfully rally the troops while they were fighting in throne room, and their timely arrival convinced the remaining enemy forces that surrender was the more sensible option.

Byleth and Claude took the chance to take stock of their casualties. Lorenz and Shamir were nowhere to be found, Hilda was severely wounded and on the verge of death, and Ignatz had fallen in a fight with one of the demonic beasts in the palace. Alois and Catherine had been killed in the fight for Enbarr, along with many of the remaining knights of Seiros who had valiantly held the front lines against the most vile beasts the Empire had to hand.

Raphael had survived, but one of his arms was beyond the help of any healing magic, Leonie had been wounded earlier in the day and was stable, but was unable to join them in the final battle. Flayn had stayed out of the palace, using her talents to tend to those wounded in the fight for the city. Marianne and Lysithea was battered and exhausted, but alive. 

They had gathered in a disused war room near the front of the Imperial palace. Outside, in the streets of Enbarr, they could hear the sound of merriment as their troops celebrated winning their final battle. 

Marianne and some of the members of her convent were making their way around the room, solemnly using up the last of their healing magic on their comrades. Hilda lay motionless on a padded bench along the wall, her breath shallow and labored. Leonie was slumped next to her, her eyes flitting open and closed as she struggled vainly to remain conscious. 

Raphael was picking at a cold chicken that had been part of their impromptu feast, his normal gusto for food more subdued than Byleth had ever seen it. Seteth had taken the seat across from him, and was scribbling something down on a piece of paper while Flayn slept deeply next to him. Lysithea sat at the head of the table, hands gently massaging her temples as she went over a thick stack of documents they had recovered from a number of imperial generals. 

Byleth rested against a windowsill, her entire body still aching. But if she was honest with herself, this felt like normal exhaustion. She had never used that much magic in one go, and the fact that she was able to call upon that much power without killing herself was in the process was… troubling. 

“So, Byleth,” she heard Claude’s voice from behind her, his tone somewhat bright despite the mood in the room. “This is it, huh?” His right arm was in a sling, but she almost felt like she could see the power of his Crest working it’s magic on the wound. He tended not to stay injured for long.

“I guess it is,” she murmured, “I… I don’t know how to feel. How are you holding up?”

“Could be better, could be worse... I mean, most people would say we should be happy right? We finally did it, we won.” Claude said, leaning against the wall next to her, “But we both know it's never that easy... I’ll admit, this… wasn’t the ending I had hoped for, but things never really work out exactly how you want them to.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that, ‘Master Tactician’,” Byleth smirked in spite of herself. 

“Things usually go close enough to my schemes that I can claim it was all by design, but even I’ve never read a situation completely correctly,” he confessed with a small smile. She had to admit, she had never seen him look quite so… honest. 

“I just…” Byleth faltered as reality came crashing back down on her, “I just wish everyone could have made it. We were so close to getting everyone out of this war alive, and it was my plan that got so many of our friends killed.”

She felt Claude’s hand on her shoulder, but she couldn’t bring herself meet his gaze. “It’s not your fault.” He assured her softly, “Quite frankly, it's a miracle we were all able to get this far together. Everyone knew what they were signing up for when they chose to join the fight against the Empire. Even though we hoped to avoid it we all knew death was a possibility.”

She wished she could agree with him, but years of using her divine pulse to keep her allies alive forced her to believe otherwise. She had always envisioned a future in which all of her friends were still around, but it seemed that this was the future she was stuck with.

“Just try to enjoy victory for now,” He smiled, “We can celebrate properly tomorrow after everyone’s gotten some sleep.”

As he looked out over the city lights, his expression turned melancholy. When next he spoke his voice was distant, “Honestly I had hoped that we could convince Edelgard to surrender once we took the city, that she would be able to admit when she was beaten. But I guess that’s the optimist in me who’s somehow still around after all these years.” 

“I don’t think she could've lived in a world where she didn’t win,” Byleth replied, “Even if she did survive, she’d probably just have to be locked away for the rest of her life.”

Claude hesitated for a moment as he carefully considered his next words, “I don’t completely disagree with her you know,” he said, keeping his voice low, “It was clear that things in Fodlan were going to continue to get worse. When I got here the Kingdom was on the verge of a civil war, the Empire was headed by a cabal of greedy nobles who were driving it into the ground, and the Alliance was too full of infighting to actually accomplish anything. Honestly, I'm a bit surprised Count Gloucester didn’t have me assassinated the second I set foot in Fodlan. 

"Meanwhile the Church was happy to watch all this unfold from Garreg Mach, only stepping in when they were threatened directly. Something needed to change. Granted, I would have tried to handle things diplomatically, as any self respecting Alliance Archduke would. But after everything that’s happened, I’m not convinced that that would have been possible.”

“I… I don’t know anymore...” Byleth sighed morosely. As much as she hated the chaos of war, it at least did a good job of forcing her to think about things like troop movements and supply lines rather than the existential question of whether or not she was doing the right thing. 

She had been so fixated on killing Edelgard over the many cycles she had been through she hadn’t stopped to think about whether or not this was the future she wanted. After all these years, the Alliance would be responsible for Fodlan and things would, for the most part, go back to normal. 

But she had seen how Fodlan’s system of nobility negatively affected the people she had come to know over the years, but she failed to see how Edelgard's plan to replace the currently corrupt nobles with a different cabal of corrupt nobles would make any real difference. Now that the Empire had been subdued she could try to affect change in this new world, but it would likely stagnate again under Rhea's guidance.

She had seen how Rhea wielded her power, and while some of her actions were justified, the way she justified them concerned Byleth. It seemed like once Rhea made a decision there was no way to dissuade her from her stated course. Her choice would be considered divinely right by everyone around her and anyone who got in her way would be deemed an enemy of the church and summarily executed. This attitude ensured that no one was ever willing to challenge her or the church for any reason, even when they were very clearly doing something wrong. 

Though she hated to admit it, she was starting to think that Edelgard may have had a point. Certainly her methods were far too extreme, but perhaps her ideals were not. 

They sat there for some time in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and the gentle murmur of a conversation between Marianne and Raphael.

“I don’t know if this is overstepping my bounds, but am I allowed to ask about the ears?” Claude asked, breaking the silence with the verbal equivalent of a sledgehammer.

Byleth looked at him, dumbfounded. “The ears?” 

“You know, the whole…” he made a ‘V’ with his fingers over the top of his ear.

Byleth reached up to the side of her head, gingerly tracing the edge of her ear. Where she expected to find a normal rounded top, she found herself instead following a long, gentle slope that ended in a sharp point. 

“I…” she fumbled around her mind, looking desperately for words that belligerently refused come forward. Was this the result of a deeper connection to Sothis’s power? Is this why she felt no strain from using her magic, when on any other day that amount of exertion would likely have killed her? But why would it manifest now? She had died so many times at this point it couldn’t have been from her approaching death. Maybe it was the circumstances? Or perhaps some sort of righteous indignation that forced her to survive?

She reached back into the annals of her memory in a desperate attempt to remember Sothis’s features. She vaguely remembered pointed ears, they looked right on the hazy image she had in her mind, but Sothis’s appearance was so strange overall that something like that would have been barely noticeable amid all the other aspects.

“Some of your teeth look sharper too,” he pointed out, prompting her to snap her jaw shut painfully. She probed the inside of her mouth with her tongue, carefully tapping the tips of her now noticeably sharper canines.

“What you did to Edelgard...” He said, interrupting her panicked thoughts, “I’ve seen you use white magic plenty of times, but I’ve never seen you do something like that.” 

“I don’t really know what happened.” Byleth responded quietly, still distractedly fiddling with her ear, “Edelgard… almost killed me. I felt myself dying. But there was this burning inside me that wouldn’t let me slip away, and it just sort of turned into… that.” 

“Rhea said you were blessed by the Goddess, right?” Claude asked, “Could it be that she still had some power left to give? Or that you just needed to be close to death to fully understand the extent of the powers you were given?”

“I wish I had answers for you Claude, believe me. All I know is that five years ago before the Imperial army attacked the monastery, Rhea said that she was merely acting as a proxy for me. That if she should die, I was to take her place. But that made no sense to me, and still makes no sense to me... I'm just...” She trailed off. 

“I believe that I may be able to shed some light on your situation.” Seteth’s voice took her by surprise as he approached the window, his piercing green eyes glittering in the torchlight.

“Many years ago, after that very discussion, I confronted Rhea about your nature.” He began, “While I do not know the details of the experiment she performed on you, I believe Rhea was attempting to use you to resurrect the Progenitor God. You were meant to be a vessel not just for her power, but for her soul as well. However, it would seem that she merely gifted you her abilities instead of overwriting your consciousness.”

“So, given that the Goddess needed resurrection, she is… or was, dead?” Claude asked while Byleth stared blankly at her own hands, “And Rhea tried to use Teach to bring her back, but she just made Teach a God instead?”

“In a way yes,” Seteth said simply, “I believe she has yet to unlock the full extent of Sothis’s power, but I believe that these new physical changes are a sign of her achieving a deeper connection to-”

“Why?” Byleth asked suddenly, turning to face Seteth.

“What?” 

“Why did she do this… thing?” She demanded, her voice hoarse as tears welled in her eyes, “Why did she do this to me?” All these years spent fighting the same war… Watching her friends die time and time again… Dying over and over, only to wake up in the same damn room to begin the whole cycle anew…

Seteth seemed taken aback as he formulated his answer, “I do not believe you were chosen specifically, it was just a coincidence.” He explained, trying to keep his voice low, “As for why Rhea was conducting these experiments… I cannot say exactly. She may have believed that only the Progenitor God could properly rule over Fodlan, and that perhaps if Sothis returned, peace would return as well.”

“I’m just…” Byleth began, her thoughts churning in her mind like the winds of a great storm, “She…”

“Hey you three,” Lysithea’s words carried across the room, interrupting their conversation, “I think you’ll want to hear this.” 

“Seteth, I hope you know I now have about a million questions for you, but I suppose they can wait for now,” Claude said as they began to make their way over to Lysithea. 

“I had no doubt about that,” Seteth sighed.

Lysithea had sorted the documents in front of her in several piles, though the pattern was completely inexplicable to anyone but herself. She held in her hands two pages written in delicate black ink, a broken wax seal bearing a stylized image of a dagger-pierced rose still stuck to the top.

Lysithea handed the pages to Claude, who had reached out his hand from the moment he saw them, “It’s a letter from Hubert,” she explained in a scratchy voice, “He left it as a failsafe in case Enbarr fell. Apparently the Empire has been working with an organization that he refers to as ‘The Threat that Slithers in the Dark’. The organization that Kronya and Solon were a part of, and one that has allegedly been sowing disorder behind the scenes in Fodlan for many years.

“He and Edelgard planned to eliminate them after they had finished uniting Fodlan. But now I guess it’s up to us to finish what they started.”

Byleth barely registered her explanation, Lysithea’s words felt like little more than droplets of water flung into the roiling storm within her. She glanced over to Seteth and Claude in an attempt to glean their reactions, but she couldn’t read Claude’s expression as he tore through the words on the page and Seteth remained as stoic as ever.

“There’s more-,” Lysithea began, shifting her gaze to Seteth.

“Rhea is alive!” Claude blurted out.

“Yes, that,” Lysithea winced, “Please, not so loud.” 

“What? Where is she?” Seteth asked, looking to Claude. 

“There is a map here,” he said, flashing Seteth the page before turning his attention back to the letter.

“We need to get to her. Now.” Seteth insisted. He snatched the page from Claude’s hand, eyes feverishly darting back and forth in an attempt to understand the diagram.

“I can find her,” Lyisthea said, shakily getting to her feet, “The palace is labyrinthine, but I think I understand the map well enough.”

* * *

The path through the palace was long, but the route was clear enough to Lysithea, who deftly navigated the chambers as if she had lived their her entire life. One of the effects of her Crest of Gloucester was that she had an almost perfect memory, so even a cursory glance at a map and the memory of battling through the structure earlier was enough for her.

Claude walked beside her, keeping an eye on her condition. She was hobbling as quickly as she could down the halls, Thyrsus tapping gently against the carpet as she did.

“Just so you know,” she whispered to Claude, stopping briefly at an intersection before selecting the left path, “The seal on Hubert’s letter was broken when I found it.”

Claude frowned, “So you’re saying someone else read it before we did.”

“It’s a possibility. I suspect that some of the mages working with the Empire were members of ‘Those who Slither in the Dark.’ If they found the letter before we did...” she hesitated, her eyes clouded with worry, “I fear for Rhea’s safety.”

“Then it is imperative that we find her as soon as we can,” Seteth declared, inserting himself into their discussion. “Do you know how long the general was dead before the letter was discovered?”

“I have no idea,” Lysithea admitted, “The soldier who delivered the letter wasn’t the one who slew him, and I wasn’t able to track down the person who did. However, a cursory examination of the body indicated that he was slain by a kind of magic that seemed... similar to my own.”

“Seteth, do you know anything about these, ‘Those who Slither in the Dark’?” Claude asked, glancing over at a Seteth, “Was the church aware that they and the Empire were not one and the same?” 

“We were aware that they were separate yes, but there were other, more pressing matters we needed to attend to,” Seteth said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Truthfully, until Solon and Kronya appeared at the monastery, we thought their organization completely eliminated.

“The Knights were to resume their investigation after we had rescued Rhea, but it would seem that Hubert has done the majority of their work for them. I had hoped to keep information about them private, but I suppose now that you are aware I am obligated to accept your help should you offer it.”

“I’m glad you understand the situation,” Claude smirked, “Now that we know who they are we should strike as soon as possible. We can’t afford to stop now just because we thought the war was over, right old friend?”

“Mmm...” Byleth barely registered his words as she stared off into the middle distance. She had slowly come to the realization that in the five years of war she had managed to forget all about about Solon and Kronya. Defeating them had become so routine that she rarely spared them a second thought. 

She had always assumed that they belonged to some faction within the Empire, and had, perhaps foolishly, believed that conquering the Empire would put an end to their organization. The idea that they were part of an entirely separate group that had not been addressed in any way shape or form was almost too much to bear, and she had to actively stop herself from breaking down in the middle of the hall. She had thought that Edelgard’s death would mean the end of the war, the end of all the death, but now it looked like that wasn’t the case.

Claude’s smile faltered as he sensed the conflict roiling in her mind. She had come to believe that his insight into people's true emotions was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, he was often able to deduce when a captured enemy was hiding something, but on the other, he was often able to deduce when she was hiding something. 

They found themselves at the door to an office that bore the name of a minor minister in the Empire. They filed through the thin doorway into the small chamber, disturbing a thick layer of dust that had settled on its spartan furniture. The room had no windows, and was therefore lit only by the flickering lanterns Claude and Seteth carried with them. 

Lysithea shambled over to a bookshelf on the far wall, tracing the spines of the books with her index finger. 

“So I take it the owner of this room was either exceptionally lazy or exceptionally nonexistent,” Claude mused, wiping clean a patch of dust on the disused desk. 

“I would certainly hope the Empire held its officials to higher standards than this,” Seteth replied, his eyes fixed on Lysithea as she scanned the rows of books, her free hand still gently massaging her temple. 

She reached up after a minute or so of searching, tugging on a book that on a second glance looked slightly less dusty than the others. Instead of falling from the shelf, it stuck as she tugged. The sounds of grinding gears began to rumble through the thick stone walls. A thin segment of the bookcase slowly pulled away, sliding behind the adjacent shelves. The smooth stone stairwell beyond extended into oppressive darkness, the metal sconces along the walls coated in wax from the long melted candles that used to occupy them. 

Claude chuckled as they stared down the passageway, “Leave it to the someone in the Empire to come up with such an obvious secret door.”

Byleth shook herself out of her mental turmoil, drawing the Sword of Seiros from her belt. She needed to focus, they had work to do. There would be time for an existential crisis later. She started the trip down, using the soft blue light from the blade to illuminate the passage. Claude and Seteth extinguished their lanterns, mindful of the exceptionally flammable cobwebs that hung from the walls and ceiling. Lysithea brought up the rear, the warm glow of her staff ensuring she could find her footing on the narrow stairs.

Fortunately, the journey downwards was not as arduous as Byleth feared it would be. After a minute or so of walking, they emerged into a wider hallway lined with barred archways. She carefully swept her blade forward in the darkness, attempting to locate anything that seemed out of place. 

“Seteth, with me,” She whispered, gesturing to her right, “Claude, you and Lysithea head that way. Signal if you find anything.”

As her voice carried through the chamber, she became distinctly aware of how silent it was. A silence that was broken by a soft groan from a cell to their left.

Byleth put a finger to her lips, motioning the rest of them to stay back. She cautiously approached the bars, glancing through the gaps at the tiny room beyond. From here, it appeared to be empty, just a rough stone floor with a pile of rotting hay masquerading as a mattress stuffed in the corner. But as her eyes probed the darkness, something she had thought was part of the bed shifted and she caught a glimpse of pale green.

“Claude, can you get this door open?” She asked hurriedly. Her eyes traced the outline of the shape in the corner, her mind slowly piecing together the crumpled form of Rhea. 

“On it,” he said, whipping a small set of lockpicks out of his belt. It took him a minute or so to get the lock open, which was unusual given his skills. She noticed that the wound on his arm was already mostly gone, and his hands were able to move with their usual deftness as he worked on the door. 

It swung open as the thick padlock hit the ground, sending the sound of creaking metal echoing around the hall. Seteth was the first into the cell, followed swiftly by Byleth. Claude and Lysithea opted to remain outside in an attempt to give them some breathing room.

Rhea was in terrible shape, and could almost be described as ghastly. The pale light from the sword made her look even more pallid than she was, giving her skin an almost green tint. She squinted at the light as they approached, hands held up defensively. Her eyes widened as her mind processed what she was seeing, and her gesture of fear swiftly turned to one of great longing.

She crawled forward, the effort of moving causing her to collapse towards Byleth. Byleth tossed the sword aside to catch Rhea, careful to prevent her from hitting the ground too hard.

Rhea looked up at her, tears filling her eyes. “You... You have come to save me... Is this... Is this a dream?” Her quivering hands reached up to Byleth’s face to gently touch her ears, “I have longed to see you again… after all this time... Mother… Is it truly you?” 

Byleth found herself at a loss for words as she met Rhea’s gaze. There was a storm of emotions in their depths, a storm that Byleth couldn’t hope to understand. “Mother?” was the only sound that managed to escape her lips.

“We need to get her to a healer!” Seteth said, approaching them. He hooked his hands under Rhea gingerly, slowly lifting her into his arms.

“Seteth… is it… is she...” She breathed as she clung weakly to his shirt. Byleth couldn’t process her in this state, she had never seen Rhea this broken. Even in the cycles where they had become close there was always a distance between them that Byleth could not cross. This Rhea was a complete unknown.

They rushed as quickly as they could back to the war room. Byleth insisted on carrying Lysithea as they ran to expedite their trip despite her protests. The journey was made somewhat difficult by the sheer scale of the palace, coupled with the fact that Byleth’s internal conflict prevented her from focusing on Lysithea’s directions.

Rhea was clearly in no state to answer any questions. Her head bobbed gently in Seteth’s arms, her eyes flitting open and closed as they moved. Her words in the cell had only added more questions to Byleth’s dizzying list. That word... ‘Mother’. Her feverish mind kept circling back to it. ‘Mother’.

Their return lurchingly shifted the mood in the war room from a muted melancholy to a tense panic. A manic recently awakened Flayn was fretting over an unconscious Rhea, her shaking hands glowing as she used up the last of the healing magic she had in her. Everyone else who was still conscious had stopped what they were doing to watch this all unfold. Byleth knew they all had differing opinions on Rhea, but her return was certainly an interesting end to this already quite interesting day.

She was beginning to feel somewhat sick. The turmoil had raised the already stuffy temperature in the room significantly, and she felt as if each breath was a struggle.

In the midst of the chaos she slipped out into the hallway. The bank of windows outside of the war room didn’t seem to open, but she thanked the goddess that one of them had been broken in the siege. She used her sleeve to sweep the shards of glass off the sill and settled down on it, letting her head smack painfully against the cool stone wall.

The palace was so quiet here. After the tumult of the day that should be something to celebrate, right? But the silence weighed on her. It was the calm before the storm. Before she had to return to the war she thought was finally over.

She sat there for some time, trying to clear her mind and focus only on the sensations she was feeling in the current moment. Time felt… different to her than it used to. Days, months, even years slipped away without her notice. She had always heard that this was an effect of aging, and though she was not physically that old, she knew she had been alive for long enough for that kind of thing to take effect. Taking in the current moment was her way of forcing herself to focus on the present, on the now.

That focus zeroed in on the sound of two sets of footsteps approaching her. Her eyes snapped open and her hand went instinctively to the dagger at her hip. 

“It’s just us,” Claude’s voice drifted over to her from a few windows down, “I guess you had the same idea we did.” He and Lysithea emerged into the moonlight streaming through the window. 

He had stripped off the heavy jacket that was part of his Barbarosa ensemble, a getup Byleth had always thought was a bit ostentatious, especially for battle. Apparently it was Alliance tradition though, so she had never voiced that opinion.

She also felt bad for continuing to think things like this, but Lysithea really looked like shit. Her skin was drawn, and her normally dark undereye circles had deepened to a color that Byleth had never seen before. She walked with a hunch, one hand holding tightly to Thyrsus and the other at her temple, the fingers shielding her eyes from the dim light of the moon. Her robes dragged as she walked, trimming them with the rudely disturbed dust that seemed to be ubiquitous in the palace.

“Do you need healing Lysithea?” Byleth asked, straightening up and calling some holy energy to her hands.

“I… I’m alright,” she murmured, “I’m not injured just… exhausted. It’s mostly this damn headache...”

“Are you sure?” Byleth asked, “I think I could deal with that.”

“I’m fine, _ mother _.” Lysithea snapped, shooting her a glare.

It made Byleth feel better that she still had the energy to be indignant. A Lysithea who was no longer annoyed by people doting on her was a deeply troubling thing.

“Here,” Byleth said, sliding over on the sill, “Sit at least, the breeze is nice.” Lysithea obliged, closing her eyes as she gently rested her head against the wall.

“She seemed like she was suffering in the war room so I suggested we get some air,” Claude said, leaning against the edge of the windowsill. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

Byleth knew he would probably come looking for her eventually, “If you're here with questions you’re better off asking literally anyone else.”

Claude looked a little hurt, and she immediately felt bad for snapping at him. “I honestly just wanted to check on you,” he said, “I know I can be nosy to a fault, but I promise this is genuine concern.”

“I’m sorry, I’m… okay. Sort of. I just… this war has been so long…” Byleth sighed, “I hoped that this would be the end of it. And this whole thing with Rhea, and with me...”

“Hey I get it,” he smiled, “It’s not every day you find out you’re literally a god right.”

“But I understand. I think we all do,” Claude assured her, “The war has taken a toll on everyone, but we can’t afford to stop just because we thought the fighting would be over.”

“I know you’re right,” Byleth said, “I’m just so damn tired.”

“Can’t fault you for that,” He laughed, “If you want I can take command for a while. We need you fully rested for our final battle.”

“That might be nice,” she mused, “But I’m sure you’re just as exhausted as I am, I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“Always, my friend,” he smiled. Claude had a wide variety of smiles that he wore for different occasions. But this was one he saved for very special moments, it was one of the few that was completely genuine. It made her feel safe, a feeling she hadn’t felt in a while.

After the first few cycles she had made a personal vow that she would push any kind of romantic feelings for anyone down as far as she could until the war was over. She had lost a few promising early cycles to love before she had come to that conclusion, but she thanked those experiences for helping to solidify her conviction. She tended to make mistakes when she was in love, and mistakes lead to death. Plus, having to meet the object of your affections again in a world where you had never met was one of the most heartbreaking things about her new existence. But as she gazed into Claude’s striking deep green eyes, the moonlight twinkling in their depths, she worried she was now close to breaking that vow. 

Her idle thoughts were interrupted by a scream from beside her and the sound of Thyrsus hitting the floor. Lysithea had bolted upright, clutching her head in her hands, fingers digging into her scalp.

“Lysithea!” Byleth shouted, putting her arms around the girl’s quaking shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?” Claude asked hurriedly, crouching in front of her.

“I-” She groaned, “Something is-” Byleth could feel it too. A low key pressure in the background had abruptly shifted to the foreground. It felt like freezing mist, causing a deep ache to fill her muscles and slow her movements.

Just then, she saw Claude’s gaze shift back to the window. She followed it, her eyes catching a glimpse of something in the distance. A series of runic violet circles were suspended in the air, and as she focused, she could make out a shape within them. It was like a sliver of night cut from the sky above. She stood from the windowsill, her eyes fixed on the object as it fell. 

As it struck the street, it transformed from a pillar of blackest night into what looked from here like a miniature sun. White fire swept through the streets, obliterating homes, shops, and any civilians unfortunate enough to be caught in its wake. 

She shielded her eyes from the glare as the detonation grew closer. She picked up Lysithea in both arms and started to run back towards the war room with Claude in tow. As she ran, she felt a tremor tear through the ground, shattering the remaining windows and raining shards of broken glass down on them.

The war room was in chaos. Even more so than it had been when Rhea had been brought back. Seteth was shouting something about evacuating as he poured over a map of the palace, searching desperately for an escape route. Everyone who could walk had found someone who couldn’t, and were already headed towards the door. 

Byleth instinctively dodged out of the way of a charging Raphael as he carried Leonie with his one functional arm, followed by a panicked Marianne and Flayn who held Hilda between them. 

In the maelstrom she saw Rhea, still sitting on the couch they had tried to make her rest on. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, glowing in the light from the explosion. She turned to face Byleth as she entered, her expression filled with a mixture of worry and what almost looked to Byleth like... hope?

“Mother…” she mouthed weakly from across the room. Byleth could not hear the word, but she understood all too well what she was saying.

“Claude, take Rhea,” She ordered, “Seteth, read while we run, we need to leave. Now.”

They both nodded, and with calculated precision they returned to the hallway, Seteth calling out orders as they ran. A minute or so into their journey, Byleth felt another quake pass through the palace, causing the plaster between the bricks to release a shower of dust into the air. This one was definitely closer.

“Mother...” Rhea said again as Byleth followed Claude down the hallway, her arms reached out towards Byleth.

“What are you talking about!” Byleth shouted despite herself, “It’s me Rhea! It’s Byleth!”

“The holy tomb…” Rhea breathed, “Ailell… You saved us…”

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” Byleth pleaded, her eyes filling with tears, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not that person! I’m just Byleth!”

Another impact. Closer still.

“It was never you... was it?” Rhea’s murmured, “Even after all this time...”

And then everything went white, and Byleth felt her heart beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this piece for quite a while now, but I know if I don't just post it I'll obsess over editing it forever. This was inspired by a comic done by bearsketches on Tumblr as well as my perspective as a player going through all four routes. This is also my first time posting anything, so let me know what you think! Chapter 2 is also done, but I'd like to do another editing pass before I post it.
> 
> Also to clarify some concepts- I've always thought the term 'Divine Pulse' was interesting, and made me think that Byleth's heartbeat was literally tied to the flow of time. I.E. When it expands, time begins to rewind, and when it contracts, time begins to flow normally again. However, the effort required to do this puts a serious amount of strain on her body.
> 
> I also like the idea that crests grant special powers that go beyond what they do in the game. So, for example, Byleth's Crest of Flames gives her a small amount of control over the flow of time that is unrelated to her Divine Pulse. She is able to add seconds to the timeline where she can act when no one else can, allowing her to get out of the way of attacks or take enemies by surprise. Other examples are the Crest of Riegan granting a healing factor and the Crest of Gloucester granting a photographic memory.


	2. A Recurrent Encounter - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth wakes up in Remire Village after being killed yet again, and must deflect her father's suspicion while surviving an encounter she really hoped to be done with.

**Great Tree Moon, 1181**  
**Byleth**

Byleth bolted upright, agony coursing through her body as her heart finished its beat. She rolled out of bed, limbs and blanket twisting into a jumbled mess as she attempted to drag herself to the window. She slammed the fragile frame open and heard the glass splinter as she violently wretched half digested venison and old bread onto the muddy street below. She was not a picky eater by any definition, but the one thing she obstinately refused to eat was venison. It’s hard to stomach a food after you’ve thrown it up over a dozen times.

She slumped to the floor, blinding pain still clouding her vision as she gulped down breath after breath of cool early morning air. 

Here she was. 

Again. 

Remire village. 

Her mind was still reeling as her body processed the fact that it was no longer being burned alive. She stared blankly at the ceiling above her, remembering all the little details of the loose boards as her thoughts buzzed around her head like a swarm of angry wasps, each unanswered question stinging worse than the last. 

She thought she had finally done it. That it would finally be over. That she had finally figured this whole thing out. Now she felt like she knew next to nothing.

One of the few things she did know was that she had only had a couple minutes until Jeralt would come knocking at her door to check on her.

He had died early in the last cycle. She always tried to get in the way of his investigation of Kronya and Solon, but he almost always got close enough for them to decide that he needed to die. Even in the cycles where she was able to prevent them from killing him, he was too selfless not to throw himself in front of a blade for her. It was terribly frustrating.

She wobbled to her feet a few seconds before she heard the heavy knock at the door, careful to untangle her legs from the knot in the blanket she had unwittingly become a part of. The effort of standing caused her stomach to produce an unholy sound that she really hoped Jeralt didn't hear.

“Hey kid, you okay in there?” Jeralt’s gruff voice carried through the thin wood of the door, tinged with about as much concern as he was capable of showing. He was always hard to read, but she had learned that it wasn’t that he didn’t feel emotions, just that he was extremely bad at expressing them.

“I’m fine,” she said as finely as she could, “Just some... stomach trouble.”

“Oh, uh... sorry about that,” he grunted awkwardly, “I’m glad you’re awake at least. We’re heading out in an hour or so, make sure you’re ready.”

“Of course,” she replied. 

She had to be careful about how she spoke to him at the beginning of each cycle. During her first year at Garreg Mach her emotions had manifested gradually enough that he could adjust to them, but he had a hard time processing her suddenly expressing a normal range of human emotions. Fortunately, she had never lied to him before now. She had never had any reason to. She always hoped the good faith from all that honesty had earned her a real doozy of a lie, something which she desperately needed now.

She wasn't sure how long she spent sitting on the bed, staring vacantly at the wall. She felt like she should be crying, but no tears came. She was sad certainly, crushingly, overwhelmingly sad, but she was too exhausted to cry. As her mind wandered, she became aware of a strand of hair dangling in front of her eyes. Her hair… she would have to explain that… she always did. As she considered this, she came to the sudden realization that she had yet to check her more recent… changes. Gingerly tracing the edges of her ears with shaking hands, she found that they remained pointed, and a cursory exploration of her mouth confirmed that her teeth had remained pointed as well. 

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose in her thumb and forefinger. A hair and eye color change was already hard enough to explain, but pointed ears and teeth? That was something else entirely. There were people with green hair and eyes, but no one had pointed ears and teeth… no one human at least.

She returned to the window and swung it closed, grimacing when she noticed the crack in it. Paying for that window hurt a bit, but she always felt guilty if she didn’t. She examined herself in the muddy surface of the glass. Trying to figure out exactly how bad these changes were.

Byleth did not often take time to reflect on her life or her decisions before she first spoke with Sothis. From her perspective, it was a long, long time ago. Truthfully, the memories no longer made sense to her, like they were recorded in a different language than the one she spoke now. 

She had to admit, however, that she now found herself indebted to her past self for being too apathetic to cut her hair. Its unruly length and tangled layers made it perfect for hiding her ears. The teeth were another matter, but she always had been a quiet person, so perhaps she could just stick to that.

The contents of her stomach were still making escape attempts as she slowly got dressed, despite the fact that all that remained of said contents was stomach acid. She donned her gear, opting to keep her heavy traveling cloak in her bag, it would be an appropriate thing to wear if they were going north to the Kingdom like they intended, but they never did.

The door to the hallway creaked noisily as she pushed it open. Jeralt was standing a few doors down, fiddling with the straps on one of his bracers. It always hurt seeing him again, especially after a particularly long cycle. You’d think that seeing someone die over a dozen times would lessen the blow when it did inevitably happen, but somehow it never helped. 

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes in tired surprise as he took in her features. His brow furrowed.

“Kid… Why’s your hair that color?” He probed after a moment, his hand idly moving to the dagger on his hip.

“What color?” She asked innocently.

“Its… green?” He said, “Your eyes too. You are my daughter right?” He glanced at the door she had emerged from, half wondering if he had knocked on the right one. 

“I am as far as I’m aware,” she replied, taking a piece of hair and moving it into her field of view, “Maybe it’s the food poisoning?”

He gave her a long, hard look, though at least his hand had moved away from the dagger. “That’d be some impressively bad food poisoning,” he grunted, “Well, as long as you’re feeling alright otherwise… Remind me to have us stop by an alchemist when we get to Arianrhod, we can get you sorted out there.”

She knew he didn’t really believe that it was food poisoning. He was smarter than people assumed, you had to be to avoid the Knights of Seiros for over two decades. But he was also practical. As long as she acted normally he wouldn’t raise a fuss about her appearance. Aesthetics weren’t a huge concern for him.

“Konrad and Eckhardt are already up.” Jeralt grunted as he turned towards the stairs, “We should eat before we leave. We won’t have any other chances to get real food between here Gaspard.”

Her stomach protested loudly at the concept. Her mind did as well, though not quite as loudly.

“Or not.” He chuckled, “I suppose we’ve still got plenty of rations left if you get hungry on the road.”

The dining room’s array of rough tables and chairs were nearly empty this early in the morning. The proprietor stood behind the counter, stirring a thin vegetable stew for the two bickering mercenaries sitting across from him.

Eckhardt was a wiry man, with a mane of dark hair tied back with a strip of loose cloth. He tended towards clothes that were slightly bigger than necessary, as he tended to overestimate the size of his own muscles when shopping. Konrad by contrast could be mistaken for a shaved bear, and he was one of the few people Byleth knew who was almost as enthusiastic about food as Raphael. In battle, he was like a brick wall that could wield a hammer. Jeralt tended to put him in a choke point and then just sort of… leave him there. No one ever got past him.

They glanced up as Jeralt’s heavy footsteps reached the landing.

“Oi! Jeralt!” Konrad bellowed, “Eckhardt here is saying we should just skip Gaspard and head straight to Arianrhod.”

“Yeah,” Eckhardt said, “Gaspard seems like a… what's it… a detour! It’d be easier to just head straight to the-”

“Eckhard. There's a mountain in the way.” Jeralt said flatly.

“Eh… not a big one!” Eckhardt protested, “And anyway, we- woah!” He stopped as he finally noticed Byleth standing awkwardly behind Jeralt. “What happened to you?”

“Food poisoning.” Jeralt said, attempting to shut down the discussion. The innkeeper glanced up from his soup, clearly somewhat offended. However, his indignation was cut short the moment he realized that the girl standing in front of the counter had a distinctly different hair color than she had had the previous night. He turned back around sheepishly, wondering under his breath if he had somehow managed to mess up the roast that badly.

“Well I like it,” Konrad smiled broadly, “It suits you Bee.”

“Thanks,” she said simply.

“We’re going through Gaspard...” Jeralt explained. Byleth considered this moment, trying to remember what happened next. Based on the time it took her to get ready, and the point in the conversation they had arrived at, she guessed they had about thirty seconds before that watchman would burst into the room. “They don’t need is in Arianrhod until after the-” 

His orders were interrupted by the door to the tavern slamming open right on cue. The sweaty watchman breathed heavily as her gaze darted around the room. Eventually lighting on the group of hardened mercenaries now staring her down with grizzled faces in various stages of bemusement. 

“Sorry to interrupt sirs!” She stammered, giving an awkward, lopsided salute, “There’s some kids at the east gate, say they’re bein’ pursued by bandits.”

Jeralt’s expression hardened as he glanced to the other mercenaries. The girl flinched as she spoke, “I just figured...” she began, “Since you all were mercenaries… you-”

“Eckhardt, get your bow and wake the others,” Jeralt commanded, standing up from the stool, “Konrad, with me. Are you well enough to fight kid?”

Byleth nodded.

* * *

They followed the militia girl out of the tavern as she lit the way through the misty streets. Remire was still asleep at this hour, resting cozily under a blanket of thin fog. Truthfully the village wasn’t large enough to ever really be described as awake. It was alive, sure, but never lively.

Byleth could see the silhouettes of the house leaders as they rounded the corner of a hovel on the edge of town. She was not looking forward to this. Seeing everyone again after a particularly long cycle was… rough.

Dimitri approached them first. He was dressed in rough looking chain armor and a steel breastplate, adorned with the blue half cape he wore with most of his outfits. He had pushed his damp hair back to keep it off his face, though a few errant strands had broken off so they could plaster themselves to his forehead. His piercing blue eyes shone in the light of the torch he carried, sparkling with an earnest innocence that almost made Byleth forget about the man he would inevitably become. 

“Thank you Alise,” he smiled at the girl as she approached. She gave him a timid smile back.

“Please forgive our intrusion,” He said, bowing deeply to Jeralt, “Alise informed us that a band of mercenaries were passing through the village. I assure you we wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.”

“This, er… Alise said that you were having some bandit trouble.” Jeralt said, “Do you have any idea how far behind you they were?” 

“Not far now. We _ had _a decent lead on them, but these two insisted we wait by the gate,” Claude sighed, his emerald eyes scanning the treeline. He was dressed in a dark knee length cloak with a matching leather cuirass and greaves. His concession to his house’s color was a gold cloth belt wrapped around his waist and a matching archery bracer, though she knew he could discard them at a moment’s notice should he need to be a bit less noticeable. His hair was a soggy mess much like her own, save for the one piece he kept in a tight braid on his right side. 

“I already explained this to you,” Edelgard insisted, “These people are civilians, and as such it's our duty to protect them, especially given that it was our actions that put them in danger. Additionally, the gate is an excellent choke point should the bandits attempt to rush us all at once.” She was the most heavily armored out of the three of them, dressed in a dull heavy plate cuirass, gauntlets, and tall greaves that glistened with dew. Her damp red half cloak was affixed with an officer’s academy pin and dangled heavily off the single pauldron she wore on her left shoulder. Her white hair was tied in a loose bun with her pale ribbons, and she had dark circles under her lavender eyes.

Seeing them all again like this was one of the hardest parts of her life. Claude and Dimitri looked so young in this moment, and she had to stop herself from thinking about the future that lay before them. And Edelgard… 

She just had to focus on making sure they all survived this fight. It wouldn’t be difficult, she had done it dozens of times already.

“You’re mercenaries right?” Claude asked with a smile, forcing her back to reality, “There’s gold in it for you if you can get us out of this.” 

Seeing him like this... It hurt. A lot. The smile he wore was so… fake. It stopped at the corners of his mouth, not daring to influence any other part of his face. This was the kind of smile he used to wear. The kind she hated, especially after she nearly fell for him in the last cycle.

“You three certianly seem capable...” Jeralt mused, examining their gear, “Alise, give that torch to my daughter. Konrad, you and I will hold the gate.”

Alise hesitated, prompting a sigh from Jeralt, “The one with the green hair... Think you can handle this kid?”

Byleth nodded, taking the torch from Alise.

“Blue,” she commanded, pushing her nausea down as best she could, “Advance slowly to the right of the gate. Red, do the same on the left. I’ll take the center. We all need to make sure we stay within fifteen feet of each other. Yellow, stay at the gate between Jeralt and Konrad. If anyone comes out of the treeline, I want you to put an arrow in them.”

“Any preference on the location?” Claude asked slyly.

“Wherever you know you can hit. If you can't kill, distract,” she responded.

They took their positions, using the torches to cut through the fog. She knew they had approximately one minute before the first bandit came bursting out of the fog to her right. 

“I do not normally take orders from dubious mercenaries,” Edelgard said haughtily, taking her position a few yards from the treeline, “but I suppose if you are trying to save our lives, and the lives of the people of this village, I will make an exception just this once.”

Byleth ignored the jab, her eyes fixed on the spot where the first bandit would emerge.

Right on schedule, a man in rough leathers burst from the treeline, charging towards Dimitri with his axe held high. 

Dimitri dodged to the right as the overhead swing collided with the ground, shoving his spear through the man’s rib cage and cracking him in the jaw with the hand that held the torch. She heard bone crunch as his fist made contact. She had not been punched by Dimitri before and wasn’t keen on trying it given what she knew about his crest.

Two more bandits broke through the brush headed towards Edelgard. One holding a sword was swiftly put down by Claude the moment he was in full view. The other found to his dismay that his spear had little effect on Edelgard’s armor, and her axe had quite a bit of an effect on his. 

Byleth turned her eyes back to the road in front of her. One would try to charge her in about fifteen seconds. 

He emerged from the brush, clutching his heavy axe with both hands as he advanced. He ducked out of the way of an arrow from Claude as his pace increased and a wild look crossed his face. She thrust her sword behind her and whipped the links forward, the chain-like blade rattling as it wove its way towards the man’s heart.

Or, she would have, if she was using the Sword of the Creator. In fact, she was currently using a quite functional, if unremarkable steel sword that Jeralt had purchased for her earlier that year. The bandit slowed somewhat, a puzzled look crossing his face. The look was quickly replaced by one of surprise as another arrow from Claude found its way into his forehead.

Byleth glanced back. Edelgard and Dimitri were too busy with enemy combatants to notice what she had done, but Claude was looking at her with an expression that was not dissimilar to the one the bandit had had before he died. She swore under her breath. Hopefully he would just forget about that, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t.

The rest of the fight went exactly the way Byleth remembered it. She slew two additional men that tried to flank her while Claude helped Dimitri fend off a particularly burly bandit. She had to actively stop herself from using any divine magic as she fought. It had been such an important part of her fighting style in the last cycle it felt like having to fight with one hand tied behind her back, but she knew if she took someone out with a beam of divine light she would just add another question to the dizzying pile that Jeralt already had for her. 

As the last visible bandit fell, Kostas, their leader, leapt from the forest at Edelgard. Disarming him went as smoothly and naturally as it always did. That particular motion was so practiced at this point she could probably do it in her sleep. 

She had of course attempted to allow Kostas to kill Edelgard in previous cycles. The concept had occurred to her very early on. But he was always incapable, or perhaps unwilling, to do so. She would avoid his strike and catch Kostas in the stomach with her dagger, and then an arrow in the shoulder from Claude would convince him that perhaps retreat was the sounder option. 

To be honest, killing or allowing Edelgard to die before she could start the war was never as good an idea as she thought it would be. In a desperate bid for vengeance, the Adrestian Empire would declare war on The Church for failing to protect the only heir to the throne they had, and the war would start as it always did, just with different people behind it. In fact, trying to circumvent or stop the war never really worked out, and in some cases she had gone to sleep one night after a seemingly successful diplomatic meeting only to wake up in Remire village with her mouth tasting of blood and occasionally poison.

They rallied back to Jeralt at his command. The sun was rising now, cutting through the mist and bathing the village in a warm golden glow.

As they reached the gate, the familiar form of Alois burst through the treeline, accompanied by two heavily armored knights jogging noisily behind him. Claude’s body reacted before he could stop himself, causing him to loose an arrow in the man’s direction. Alois ducked out of the way at the last second, straightening up with a slightly offended look on his face.

“Well that’s no way to greet a knight,” He boomed as Claude shouted a quick apology. “You there, strapping fellow at the gate! Which way did those dastards go?”

Jeralt didn’t respond. He squinted in the light from the rising sun, attempting to discern the man’s face through the glare from his armor. Byleth wordlessly pointed with the tip of her sword, vaguely indicating the direction to the approaching knights.

Alois slowed to a brisk walk and glanced to the soldiers flanking him, “Well? After them!” He ordered, “I’ll make sure the students are safe.” The knights nodded and dutifully headed off in the direction Byleth had pointed with lances at the ready. She knew they wouldn’t find the bandits. They never did.

Alois clanked to a stop as he reached the gate, panting slightly under the weight of his armor. “To whom do I owe thanks for ensuring the safety of our students?” He asked, beaming at the group assembled before him. He scanned their faces and did a double take as he reached Jeralt, who at the very same moment realized who he was talking to. A quiet, “Oh no,” escaped his lips.

“Captain Jeralt!? It is you! Goodness, it’s been ages.” Alois exclaimed, “Don’t you recognize me!? It’s Alois! Your old right-hand man. Why, we all thought you were dead!”

“You haven’t changed a bit Alois, just as loud as ever...” Jeralt sighed, straining out a smile, “And drop that captain nonsense, I’m not your captain anymore. These days I’m just a wandering mercenary. One who has work to do. You can have your students back, no thanks necessary,” He shoved Edelgard forward gently, who jumped at the unexpected contact, “Goodbye old friend.”

“Right… well, still, much appreciated Captain,” Alois said sadly, eyes downcast until a sudden joyous revelation came over him, “Wait! This isn’t how this ends! I insist that you return to the monastery with me!” He grinned at Jeralt, who’s smile began to crack.

“This is why I wanted to say far away from Garreg Mach,” Jeralt growled to Konrad, who was watching all this unfold with a look of confusion. 

“It was the fastest way to Arianrhod,” Konrad mumbled, “and the others didn’t want to take the eh… what’d you call it, the seen-ic route?”

“Alois, I believe you should be thanking her for our safety,” Dimitri interjected, gesturing to Byleth, “Jeralt did an excellent job protecting the gate, but she was the one who guided us through the battle.” 

“Oh, well in that case, let me thank you properly,” Alois extended his hand to Byleth, “May I ask your name?”

“You misunderstand me,” she said, taking his hand, “I’m a bandit, I just defected at the last minute so I wouldn’t be cut down. I’m planning on fleeing the moment you turn your back.” She smiled in spite of herself. She liked Alois. In the cycles where she was unable to save Jeralt, it was partially thanks to his kindness that she was able to keep moving. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer by any means, but he had the biggest heart and best attitude out of all the knights at Garreg Mach. 

He laughed heartily, “Captain you found a real card here! I see why he keeps you around!” He clapped her a little too hard on the back, nearly causing her to double over. Now that the adrenaline rush from the battle had subsided, her body had decided it was time to resume its previous task of tearing her apart from the inside out.

“I’m also his daughter, Byleth,” she said weakly, forcing the bile down.

Concern fell over his face as he noticed her discomfort. “Oh, er… Apologies,” he said quickly. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to Jeralt who was engaged in a hushed argument with Konrad. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to the Captain in private. But I do hope you will consider returning to the monastery with us.”

She nodded and he gave her a winning smile. He turned back towards Jeralt, who grimaced as he met Alois’s eyes.

Byleth slowly made her way to the wall near the gate to the village, carefully leaning against it in an attempt to look relaxed and not like her stomach had declared war on the rest of her body.

Dimitri approached her with Edelgard and Claude in tow. His face was lined with worry, oblivious to the argument brewing behind him.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, “Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, “Thank you though. Are you all alright?”

“Not a scratch on any of us thanks to you,” Claude winked. 

“I appreciate your help back there,” Edelgard began, “and I apologize for questioning your character. You’re clearly an experienced warrior. But... your father, that would be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knights of Seiros. Oft Praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Am I correct?”

Byleth nodded. She had to actively remove the image of Edelgard with the Sword of Seiros through her skull from her mind. There was something very disturbing about idly chatting with someone you fought to the death only a few hours ago.

“Hey! You are coming to the Monastery with us, right?” Claude said to break the silence, “Of course you are. I’d love to bend your ear as we travel. The three of us are students at the officers academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were in the middle of some training exercises when those bandits attacked. I definitely got the worst of it.”

“That would be because you ran off,” Edelgard chided.

“Too true!” He chuckled, “I was the first to make a strategic retreat. Everything would have worked out if these two hadn’t followed me and ruined everything. Because of them, every single one of those bandits chased after us. Utterly ridiculous.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were thinking, Claude.” Dimitri mused, “And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.”

“His intentions were clear as day,” Edelgard scoffed, “You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person's words.”

They bantered like this for some time. Byleth wished that it could have remained this way forever, with them just trading vocal jabs rather than sword swings. She took a moment to try and calm herself, mind and body, ensuring that her face remained stoic. She snapped back to reality just as Claude began to ask her a question.

“-But it seems there’s no time for niceties in this world,” he was saying, “So, capable stranger, let’s get right to it. Where does your allegiance lie?” 

“I’m a mercenary,” she said flatly, “My allegiance lies with whoever buys my next meal.”

Claude laughed while the other two deflated somewhat, “A fair response I suppose.”

“If gold is what you seek the Empire would be happy to bankroll you and your father for the foreseeable future,” Edelgard said confidently, her eyes probing Byleth’s face for any kind of response.

“As would the Kingdom,” Dimitri interjected, “But I suppose there will be time to work out our contract on the way back to the Monastery.”

Alois chose that moment to break into their conversation, squeezing himself between Dimitri and Claude.

“Byleth, was it?” he began, “Your father insisted that we return to the inn for a bit so he could work a few things out with your troop. How does breakfast sound kids?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to divide Chapter 2 up into two pieces, I may have overestimated how many words should be in one chapter. This will probably help encourage me to update this more frequently. Chapter 3 will be posted shortly, given that it's already done.


	3. A Recurrent Encounter - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth makes some new, well, remakes some new friends on her journey to Garreg Mach, and after accepting a teaching position yet again, is given some unexpected advice from a confidant.

**Great Tree Moon, 1181**   
**Byleth**

The main room of the inn went from completely dead to unusually lively as their party made their way back in. The proprietor seemed a touch annoyed at first, but a pouch of coins from Alois quickly convinced him to treat his guests like the royalty some of them technically were. He brought out a decent amount of smoked meat, making a big show of adding it to the soup he was cooking. He also ordered a young girl currently sweeping the floors to break out some fresh bread that had been baked the night before. 

“So,” Claude said, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl, “You’re a full fledged member of Jeralt’s troop right? How long have you been a mercenary?”

“About six years,” she replied as the smell in the room assaulted her nostrils. She had learned that information from Jeralt some time ago, despite his unwillingness to share it. She hadn't realized how unusual her upbringing was until she had first had this conversation. Apparently most parents weren’t too keen on their children joining mercenary companies before the age of twenty, but Jeralt was not most parents.

“You seem so young,” Edelgard mused, “How old are you exactly?”

“21.” Byleth answered. Edelgard blinked in surprise as Dimitri’s mouth curled into a knowing smile.

“‘Children are taught to wield a weapon before they are taught to read and write.’” he said, “Those sound like Kingdom ideals to me, is there any chance that Jeralt was raised in Faerghus?”

“Its possible,” She shrugged, “He never really talks about his past, and we’ve been on the road for as long as I can remember. I think the longest we ever stayed in one place was the year we spent in a village in the Alliance.”

“It sounds like you had quite the childhood,” Claude laughed, “Maybe you could tell us some stories on our journey to keep us entertained.” 

“It all sort of blurs together in my mind to be honest.” Byleth admitted sheepishly, “Mercenary work is just as dull as anything else if it’s part of your routine.” Someone always expected her to tell stories about her past, oft inquiring about how growing up with Jeralt was, or what it was like being part of a famous mercenary band. She would have indulged them if she could, but any stories she told would contain only a tiny amount of truth given how little of her childhood she remembered.

“If it’s so routine I’m sure you have some pointers for us having seen us in action.” Dimitri said in a tone that suggested he had been waiting to say it for a while, “I would greatly appreciate any guidance you may have.”

“I’d need more time to observe your technique,” Byleth said, “I’m also feeling a bit… under the weather right now, so I’ll admit I wasn’t especially observant in that fight.”

“In that case I’d love to test myself against the full extent of your abilities,” Edelgard declared, her intense gaze boring into Byleth, “Perhaps we could spar at some point during your stay at the monastery?”

“Perhaps...” Byleth replied, averting her eyes.

“Listen to you two…” Claude chided, “Already trying to monopolize our new friend’s time. I had planned on developing a deep long-term relationship with her first so we could learn from each other, but it looks like I’ll have to reserve a place on her schedule.” Byleth unconsciously winced a bit at his tone. If only he knew.

“You’re assuming she will be taken in by your wiles, Claude,” Dimitri laughed, “Be on your guard around him Byleth. He always has an ulterior motive or two.”

“For once, I agree with Dimitri,” Edelgard smiled.

“Oh, how you both wound me!” Claude cried, leaning back in his chair dramatically, “How will I ever make friends when the two of you always fill their heads with such slander?”

It only took Jeralt a half hour or so to work things out with his company, but he always tried to stall as much as possible. He left a strapping warrior from the Alliance named Rojda in charge, but insisted on taking his time going over every little detail of their contract to the point that even Konrad could tell he didn’t really want to leave. Eventually, Alois managed to drag him away from the group, and after the knights sent to track the bandits returned to them they set out for the monastery. 

Jeralt offered his horse to Byleth as they walked to help with her stomach, but she declined. She needed time to think, and she had trouble doing so from the back of a horse. The three house leaders were engaged in meaningless discussion beside her on the walk, but she found herself completely incapable of paying attention to what they were saying.

She thought about the last cycle, the one she had thought would be finally the end. Those who Slither in the Dark, the name was ungainly sure, but she had a harder time wrapping her head around the fact of their existence. An organization that was working with the Empire but which was, in truth, something entirely distinct. If Hubert’s letter was to be believed, the Empire planned on eliminating them after the war, so perhaps it was an alliance based on convenience. A sort of, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’ thing.

Edelgard's assertion that she was not aware of, and would have stopped, the experiments happening in Remire Village also made a lot more sense now. Whoever Those who Slither in the Dark were, they clearly had goals that aligned somewhat with Edelgard’s, but not completely. What were those goals, what did they hope to achieve?

And again, what were those things that had so abruptly ended the last cycle? It seemed to her that if the Empire was in possession of something like that they would have used it before long before they reached Enbarr. And Edelgard was many things, but she was not someone who would use something like that on her own citizens. 

She needed more information, but how could she get it without alerting Those who Slither in the Dark of her interest? She would need to be careful. 

Perhaps she would start her search with Ailell, given that it was the only real lead she had. She had been there several times over the many cycles, but tended to avoid the blasted hellscape as much as possible like any sane person would. The idea of returning was not thrilling to her, but it was the only lead she had.

“So, Byleth.” Claude’s voice cut through her racing thoughts like a dagger. “This is your first time at Garreg Mach, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Byleth confirmed.

“This may sound like a strange question in that case, but have you ever met the Archbishop, Lady Rhea?”

“Who?” Byleth asked. He always asked her this at some point on the walk back, and she always lied straight to his face.

“Seteth, Flayn… do either of those names ring a bell?”

She shook her head.

“Interesting. Your features… well, mostly just the hair and eyes bear a strong resemblance to their's. I just wondered if there was any relation, but I suppose it’s just a coincidence.” Claude admitted. 

“By that logic, I suppose you assumed that Ingrid and I were siblings upon meeting us,” Dimitri laughed, “Or perhaps that Edelgard and that young girl in your house are long lost sisters finally brought together at the academy.”

“Oh come on,” Claude sighed, “There are plenty of beautiful blondes in Faerghus. But even you have to admit that her shade of green is unusual. But please, can you ever forgive me for being curious?”

“That’s a lot to ask given your usual penchant for sticking your nose where it isn’t wanted,” Edelgard teased, “Would you like us to forgive you for your inability to take things seriously as well?”

Claude considered this for a moment, “I’ll hold on to that for now.” He smirked, “I need to know I still have a surefire method of annoying you two.”

“Shame…” Edelgard sighed, though her smile was good natured.

“If this is your first time at the monastery, I’d be happy to show you around.” Dimitri offered after a moment.

“I think I’ll be alright, thank you Dimitri,” Byleth smiled, “It’s easier for me to map a place out in my mind if I’m exploring it alone.”

“If you insist,” Dimitri relented, “But please, do be careful. there are a lot of places that are off limits to outsiders.”

“That sounds like Fodlan in a nutshell to me,” Claude mused, “For better and for worse.”

“Like it or not, we’ll be there soon.” Edelgard said as her eyes probed the edge of the forest, eventually settling on the silhouette of the monastery in the distance.

* * *

The great gates to the central complex groaned open as their party reached the bridge leading to the monastery. The return of not one, but two knight captains was a big deal for the guards, who generally spent their days processing simple pilgrims or blustering nobles come to offer the church their tithes or prayers. The knights and students left them here after thanking them again, setting off to resume their previously scheduled activities.

As they passed through the archway into the courtyard, Byleth found herself in step with Jeralt. His nervous glancing around on their way in had been replaced by a tired stare as they walked towards the reception room. She knew exactly what it was his gaze had settled on. 

“Rhea’s here,” he grumbled. 

She looked up at the balcony several stories above them. Standing behind its sturdy railing was the imposing form of Rhea, fully dressed in her immaculate robes. She was a far cry from the Rhea Byleth had most recently interacted with, this Rhea was distant and untouchable. Her expression as she gazed down at them had always made Byleth shiver. She felt like she was walking directly into an undisguised trap.

They were ushered up to Rhea’s audience chamber by a group of very distraught monks. Alois ducked out prior to her arrival, saying something about needing to clean out Jeralt’s old office. Jeralt grimaced as he said this, knowing full well what it meant for his future.

“It’s been years since I last set eyes on this place,” Jeralt said quietly as they waited for the archbishop’s arrival, his words echoing softly off the walls of the chamber. “To be forced to see her now…”

“You’ve been here before?” Byleth asked, more out of habit than anything else.

“I was a knight here many years ago, the captain of the knights in fact… I reported directly to Rhea back then,” Jeralt mumbled, “But this was long before you were born.” 

Just then, the sound of two sets of footsteps began to fill the audience chamber as Rhea and Seteth emerged from her office. Seteth’s face was lined with worry as he took in the the two mercenaries before him, but Rhea wore the same placid smile she always wore, unphased by the unexpected nature of the meeting. Byleth had to stop herself from squirming as Rhea’s eyes bored into her, taking in every detail she could make out.

“I apologize for the delay Jeralt. We had urgent business to discuss with Alois.” Seteth said tightly, “My name is Seteth, and it is my honor to serve as head advisor to the Archbishop. ”

“Right. Nice to meet you,” Jeralt grunted.

“It has been a long time Jeralt,” Rhea mused, finally shifting her attention away from Byleth. He flinched as their eyes met, “I wonder… was it the will of the goddess that we have another chance meeting like this.”

“Forgive my silence all these years,” Jeralt bowed, “Much has happened since we last spoke.”

“So I see,” Rhea smiled, “The miracle of fatherhood has blessed you. That is your child, is it not?” Her gaze returned to Byleth, and she noticed Rhea’s smile broaden ever so slightly.

“Yes…” Jeralt confirmed, “Born many years after I left the knights. I wish I could introduce you to her mother, but we lost her to illness some time ago.”

“I see,” Rhea said softly, her smile fading somewhat, “My condolences.”

“Your thoughts are appreciated, Archbishop,” he said without a hint of appreciation.

“Jeralt, you already know what I wish to say, do you not?” 

He sighed, causing Seteth’s frown to deepen. Not many people could get away with sighing at the Archbishop, and Seteth was not yet aware that Jeralt was one of those people, “You want me to take command of the Knights of Seiros again. I won’t say no, but…”

“Your apprehension stings. I thought Alois would have already asked this of you...” Rhea said, “Regardless, I’m glad to see you returned to us.”

Byleth always found this discussion rather funny in a messed-up sort of way. Watching the two of them lie through their teeth to each other was so bizarre, knowing what secrets they hid behind carefully chosen words.

Rhea’s smile returned as she turned her attention to Byleth, “As for you, I heard of your valiant efforts from Alois. May I ask your name?”

“Byleth, Archbishop,” She bowed.

“A fine name indeed,” Rhea said, “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving our students. While your father is the Knight Captain here, I would like you to serve as a professor at our academy if you are willing.”

“It would be my honor,” Byleth replied, “But I worry that I will not have much to teach the students. I am not much older than they are.” 

“Alois was quite impressed by your abilities, and the students you aided were beside themselves with admiration. I have every confidence in your abilities, as you should.” Rhea beamed, “I believe the other professors have a faculty meeting scheduled for tomorrow at 10 AM in the conference room. I would love for you to attend.”

Byleth nodded.

“You will stay in the dorms on campus,” Seteth explained, handing her a key, “At the end of the building, room 115.” After a moment he added, “See that you work to earn the trust the Archbishop has seen fit to place in you.”

“Unfortunately Seteth and I have urgent business we must attend to, but I am overjoyed that you will both be working with us,” Rhea said with a small bow, her eyes fixing on Byleth’s as she straightened back up, “I look forward to spending more time with both of you.” She and Seteth quickly returned to her office, leaving Jeralt and Byleth alone in the room.

* * *

“We need to talk,” Jeralt said flatly, glowering down at Byleth.

He lead her out of the audience chamber and down the hall to his office. A cloud of recently disturbed dust filled the air as the heavy door swung open, causing Jeralt to cough violently as he breathed in. He waved violently to clear the air as they made their way into the room .

“I swear,” he gagged, “Alois probably hasn’t touched this place since I left…” Just then, a look of realization came over him.

He sat down at his desk and pulled open one of the many unmarked drawers, Byleth sat across from him in one of the sturdy leather chairs, knowing exactly what he had remembered. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled out a large bottle full thin amber liquid that glittered in the light of the setting sun. 

“So,” he said, pouring as much of the bottle as he could into a rocks glass. “What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean,” she asked, actively trying to look as innocent as possible.

“You know damn well what I mean,” he growled after gulping down half the glass in one go, “The hair, the eyes, the smile you gave Alois. You talking to Rhea and those brats like it was nothing. You never do things like that. Not ever.” 

“I…” She faltered, she had a lie she usually used here. Sothis appeared to me in my dream, she would say, and granted me a blessing just as she blessed Seiros long ago. She had been trying to reach me since I was born, but was unable to because of our distance from the monastery.

Something made her hesitate though. There was always a distance between them at the beginning of each cycle. Jeralt always seemed like he suspected she had somehow been replaced. Not that she could blame him. From his perspective she was a completely different person from the one he knew. Perhaps she would try something new. What’s the worst that could happen? Death? She didn’t care much about that anymore. And quite frankly, she needed someone to talk to.

She decided to make a bad decision.

“Fine, but I’m going to need some of that,” she sighed, pointing at the bottle.

“If you insist,” He chuckled. He downed the remainder of his glass and refilled it, passing it across the desk to her.

She downed the liquor.

People who are experts in a field tend to assume others are as well, and will use complex imagery, detailed comparisons, and flowery metaphors to relate an experience to the reader. However, someone with little experience will have a harder time bringing across the sensations associated with performing an act. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, as simpler descriptions are often more relatable for people with no background in a subject. For example, Byleth was more of an ale or wine person than a hard liquor person, so the best description she could muster for the liquid now scorching the inside of her throat was… Very Bad.

She stifled a cough, carefully placing the glass back down on the desk. Jeralt raised an eyebrow.

She then decided to make a worse decision.

She told him everything.

Everything from the time she had first met Sothis in her dream to her most recent death, describing every cycle as best she could through the haze of memory and the foul whiskey she continued drinking for some reason. She went into greatest detail about the last cycle, mentioning the changes that had come over her and the discovery of ‘Those who Slither in the Dark’, as well as the things that had annihilated Enbarr.

Jeralt’s expression betrayed little as he listened quietly to her tale, only once asking her to wait a moment so he could flag down a knight and order her to bring them another bottle of booze. By the time she finished the sun had just finished crossing the edge of the horizon and Byleth was completely ratassed.

There was a delay that went on just long enough to be uncomfortable after her explanation ended, and she found herself shifting awkwardly in her seat. Jeralt was staring at her intensely with fingers entwined, chin resting on his hands.

“That’s quite a story,” He grumbled.

“It’s true!” Byleth shouted louder than she intended, her liquor nearly slopping out onto the floor as she pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“I never said it wasn’t,” Jeralt shrugged, carefully removing the glass from her hand, “It’s just… a lot to take in at once.”

“Thats… fair,” she slurred.

“I mean, last night you were your usual quiet, detached… normal self, and now?” He said, “You’re like a completely different person. You were crying and laughing at points during that story, you talked about making friends and alliances and falling in love. I’ve never seen you bear your emotions like that...”

Byleth’s face went red, well, redder than it already was. She hadn’t meant to emote as much as she apparently had, and was now weighing whether the alcohol or the honesty was a bigger mistake.

“You’ve seen me die dozens of times, fought in a war against one of the students at the academy, and you’ve uncovered the existence of an organization that’s been sowing discord across the continent since before the church was founded,” he continued, “Not to mention you’re apparently the literal reincarnation of the damn Goddess?”

He sat back in the chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass while staring wistfully into it, “And you’ve been alive for so long you've forgotten exactly how long...” He chuckled, “I guess we have that in common at least.”

“Oh yeah…” Byleth mumbled, that rung a bell somewhere deep in her memory. She knew he was well over one hundred years old, though she had no idea how she knew that. Someone must have told her at some point.

“Why d’you…” She began, words blurring together in her mind, “Why do you believe me? People usually… have more questions…”

He considered this as his eyes bored into hers. “It’s as good an explanation as any for why you’re so… different,” He stated in a matter-of-fact way, “And quite frankly, it would be a hell of a story if you were making it all up. The Byleth I knew wasn't much of a talespinner.”

She nodded an inappropriate number of times, the pace of her movement slowing until she realized she was just doing it to feel the world move back and forth.

“Why tell me?” Jeralt asked after a moment.

“Huh?”

“Why tell me now?” He asked again, “You’ve done this plenty of times without telling me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell someone else?”

Why did she tell him? That was an excellent question. “I guess… I just needed to talk to someone and… I trust you, you know?”

He smiled sadly, but said nothing. The silence hung in the air between them for a while, but it wasn’t a bad silence. It was almost comforting in a weird way.

“What’s your plan this time?” He asked to her dismay. She had been intentionally avoiding that question since she had woken up. She blew out her cheeks and threw up her hands, slumping down in her chair with eyes closed.

“I… don’t know.” She said after a moment, opening her eyes to see Jeralt staring down at her, “After the… the last cycle I feel completely… I don’t know… lost? I thought that killing Edelgard would… it would be the end, you know? But now… it kinda feels like... all that work was just… pointless. Even if I do manage to kill her again... ”

He furrowed his brown as he considered her words. She merely lounged in the chair, thinking about how lovely it would be to fall asleep here and not have to think about this cycle for a bit.

“You mentioned those two houses a lot in your story, the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer,” He pointed out eventually, “Have you ever tried leading the Black Eagles?”

“But Edelgard…” Byleth mumbled.

“I know you’re not exactly her number one fan...” he said, “But understanding how someone’s mind works can really help when it comes time to fight them. You also might be able to take some of her allies away from her when war does break out, I’m sure that’d make things more difficult for her.” 

“But she...” Byleth said morosely, her vision blurring, "You die because of her..."

"I thought it was people from… what did you call them? Those who Slither in the Dark? Who wind up killing me," Jeralt asked, "You yourself said that she was working with them, but wasn't one of them."

"I..." Byleth grumbled.

“Based on what you've told me, it seems like you've hit a wall. You need to try something new...” He sighed, “And who knows, maybe they won't kill me if you're her professor.”

He chuckled at this, but Byleth was incapable of finding it funny. The silence had stopped feeling comfortable. He stood up from the desk after about a minute, only stumbling slightly as he did so. “It’s getting late, and you need sleep. We can talk more when you’re… uh… sober. Do you want to stay in my quarters for tonight? They’re closer than the dorms,” he asked, “I can sleep in here, I did it plenty of times when I was Knight Captain.” 

“I’m... fine, I know where… where the dorms are.” she replied, stumbling significantly more as she got to her feet, “Thank you though.” 

* * *

Byleth half walked, half fell to the door. As she shuffled into the hallway, she felt something large and fast collide with her. By the time she understood what was happening, she was already on hard stone, her head spinning and her hand at the dagger on her hip. 

She heard a familiar voice from above that dripped down to her like oil leaking from a lantern. “My apologies...” was all it said.

She looked up, and then up some more to see Hubert gazing down at her, his face impassive. He reached down after a moment, offering her a gloved hand.

“Oh, Hu-” She began, “Hu’re very tall…” She took his hand and he pulled her to her still quite unsteady feet. He probably wouldn’t notice that she almost said his name right? She was clearly very drunk, maybe he would assume she was just slurring her words.

“Indeed…” He said, narrowing his already quite narrow eyes as the stench of whiskey reached his nostrils. 

“Sorry, I… excuse me…” she mumbled, giving him a small bow. She spun on her heel so that she was facing the way he had been walking, quickly beginning her unsure journey down the hall. 

Hubert watched her until she disappeared around a corner. He had questions about this strange green haired woman, not that she needed to know that. All he knew was that the pointed ears she had drunkenly tucked her hair behind were rather... unusual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's chapter 3, a.k.a. what I've already written. I'd rather not set a specific date to publish the next part because I don't want to pressure myself into putting something I'm not proud of up. Ideally I'd like to have it up in a week or so, but we'll see.


	4. The Third House - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth comes to regret at least one of her decisions from the previous night when she attends her first faculty meeting of this cycle, but is invited to an event she has never attended before. On the way, she runs into an old friend and spends the remainder of the day considering her options for this cycle now that she is (relatively) emotionally stable and (relatively) sober.

**Great Tree Moon, 1181  
** **Byleth**

As Byleth came to consciousness, she wondered if the agony pounding in her head like a battalion of charging knights meant that she had died yet again. Something about this was different though. When she died she always woke up suddenly as if from a nightmare. This was more of a slow, heavy, and unpleasant return to reality. She almost prefered dying.

As she grudgingly opened her eyes, the blinding sunlight that streamed through her window sunk vicious serrated daggers into her brain. She groaned unconsciously, suddenly remembering why she didn’t drink whiskey very often. 

The sun. That rang a small alarm bell in her mind. When did the sun usually come through her window? Around 9:45 - 10:00, right?

The staff meeting.

She sat up quickly and immediately regretted that decision. Her head felt like it was full of molten lead that sloshed around as she moved, somehow always finding a new section of skull to burn and weigh down simultaneously.

Some of the monks had brought her things to her room the previous night, not that she had many things to bring. She dressed in the nicest clothes she had and briefly considered wearing her heavy cloak just so she could have a hood over her eyes, but decided that she would just live with the consequences of her bad decision. 

She made sure to check herself in the mirror before leaving to ensure her ears were still safely tucked away. She grimaced as she took in her appearance. Quite frankly, she looked like shit, but there wasn’t any time to do anything about that. Sure she had showed up to the meeting looking worse before, but not much worse.

She walked as quickly as she could through the campus, intentionally avoiding anyone who might cordially greet her. Though she knew they meant well, every sound felt as if it had quadrupled in volume. Even the atmospheric tweeting of the birds and the buzzing of the insects felt like countless drills being slowly worked into her skull.

The assembled instructors glanced up at the door as Byleth slammed it open. She winced as it hit the stopper, fully aware of the array of looks they were giving her. They were sitting at the end of the massive table in the room that Byleth couldn’t help but think of as the war room. She had always wondered why they needed a table this large, but had never wondered enough to ask.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, heading towards a seat to the right of Manuela. 

“You are Byleth I presume?” Hanneman asked in an exasperated tone. 

“Yes, sorry,” she said again, “I had a… strange night last night.” 

“Evidently…” Hanneman sighed, tapping a stack of forms on the table in a way that made Byleth cringe. He cleared his throat. “We were just discussing the duties of each of our practical instructors. But I now that you are here I suppose we should introduce ourselves. My name is Hanneman von Essar, Crest scholar and professor here at the academy.”

“Manuela, Manuela Casagranda ,” she said, extending a hand to Byleth in such a way that she was unsure if she was supposed to kiss it or shake it, though Byleth did notice her voice was slightly softer than usual, “Professor, physician, songstress... and available.” She winked.

“Jeritza, weapons instructor,” He said simply. He wore his usual white tunic and black leggings, and had the strange white mask affixed to his face. Byleth had never interacted with Jeritza much, he had made her uneasy even before he was revealed to be the death knight. She had attempted to get to know him at one point, but it hadn’t turned out well.

“Rushdi al-Tariq,” grinned the heavily accented man sitting next to Jeritza, “riding instructor and stablemaster.” He had dark skin and black wavy hair that he had tied in a neat ponytail. His thick, long beard reached down to the middle of his chest, and seemed much better maintained than the rest of his hair. He was dressed in simple breeches and a tunic, which was what he wore pretty much every day. He saw no reason to dress up, whatever he wore was just going to be covered in horse related detritus by the end of the day anyway.

“And I’m Catlin Shah, flight instructor and aviary keeper,” the final woman announced. She was small, barely over five feet, with a pixie like face and cropped pale blue hair. Her clothes were tight, simple, and functional, allowing her a full range of movement both on and off her pegasus. Byleth knew from experience that Catlin was much more dangerous than she looked, and anyone who underestimated her because of her size or appearance wound up with a fist at their jaw or a spear in their guts depending on her mood.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Byleth said with a small bow, “Sorry again for being late.”

“Just ensure it does not happen again,” Hanneman sighed. He and the instructors returned to their previous discussion. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Manuela pass the mug she had been drinking from to her. The aroma hit Byleth as it slid under her nose. Coffee.

“You need this more than I do,” Manuela whispered, “I know a bad hangover when I see one.”

“Manuela, you are a saint,” Byleth croaked, taking a long sip of the lukewarm liquid. She didn’t usually take her coffee as sweet as Maneula did, but right now she would take whatever she could get.

“Oh you… I’m just a doctor,” she purred, “One who is very familiar with that particular ailment.”

As she nursed the drink, she decided to take a keen interest in the conversation the other professors were having for once. She had paid attention many cycles ago when she was still learning the ins and outs of being a teacher, but by this point she had decades more experience in the field than anyone else in the room. Truthfully, the primary reason for her interest was less to do with a genuine interest in the subject and more to do with her desire to dissociate from her own body. 

Hanneman was discussing wages with the instructors who, with the exception of Jeritza, were a bit miffed about not receiving a pay increase yet again. The conversation went on for quite a while, until eventually Hanneman relented and vowed to speak to Seteth about the issue. Byleth was unsure if he ever did actually speak to Seteth, but she guessed he probably would completely forget about the entire discussion the moment the instructors left the room.

Apparently satisfied, the instructors gathered their things and left. The two professors turned to her as the door closed.

“So,” Hanneman said, adjusting his monocle, “Now that that tedious business is dealt with, I believe Manuela and I should explain what is required of you as a professor at the academy.”

“Did they really not explain anything to you when they gave you the job?” Manuela asked with widened eyes, “It’s downright irresponsible to throw someone into the deep end like that.”

“Rhea and Seteth seemed… Busy yesterday,” Byleth said, “And they spent most of the time they had talking to my dad.”

Hanneman sighed as he turned his attention back to the stack of forms in front of him, “Of course… Given how much it costs students to attend the academy I would hope they would ensure that the professors they hired were qualified for this position,” he pulled out a file folder with several color coded packets stuffed in it, “But evidently that is not the case.”

He handed the file to her. “This folder contains copies of the application forms belonging to each of the students attending the academy this year, and are divided based on the house they will be joining.”

“Each of us takes charge of one of the three houses. As the professor of a house it is our job to teach basic subjects like math, history, and writing,” Manuela said, “We also are encouraged to spend a bit of… alone time with each student every week to make sure they are keeping up.” 

“More specialized skills will be taught by those who are most qualified to teach them,” Hanneman continued, “I am responsible for Black Magic, Manuela is responsible for White Magic, and we were hoping you would be able to handle most of the… martial instruction.” 

“I can definitely do that,” Byleth confirmed.

“Excellent,” Manuela smiled, “My delicate porcelain hands are not meant for that kind of work anyway.”

“You should spend this weekend getting to know a few students from each class,” Hanneman said, opening a copy of the folder he had handed to Byleth, “We will meet here again at ten o’clock tomorrow to choose our houses, and on Monday we will hold a free for all mock battle between the houses. This will be a good opportunity to learn the strengths and weaknesses of each student.”

“That sounds straightforward enough,” Byleth said.

Manuela giggled as she looked Byleth up and down. “Your confidence is admirable,” she said, “I hope its deserved.”

“By the way,” she continued, “For now we’ve only informed the house leaders that you’re our new professor. It’s more fun that way.”

The rest of the discussion went on as usual. The other professors gave a general overview of the year and an explanation of the assignments for each month, ending with a discussion of when and how much each of them would be paid. The meeting wrapped up very suddenly around 12:15 when Hanneman realized he had left a test tube uncorked in his lab and rushed out of the room with a panicked look on his face.

As Manuela stood from her chair, she looked down to Byleth with a smile. 

“Say... in the interest of getting to know one another better, would you like to accompany a student and I on a little lunch and shopping date in town?” She asked with a wink.

This question was new, but Byleth wasn’t really able to focus on the novelty as she remembered that she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in… long enough for her to be unsure of how long it had been.

“Oh… uh,” She said with a smile as her stomach growled, “Sure, that sounds fun. Let me just put this folder back in my quarters.”

“Of course,” Manuela said, “I have some things I need to take care of myself, shall we meet by the gate at one?”

* * *

As Byleth headed towards the gate from her quarters, she considered why Manuela had never asked her to come on this trip before, presumably it happened every cycle right? Unfortunately, her idle thoughts caused her to miss the sound of a set of rapidly approaching footsteps, followed by a well toned body wrapping her in a tight hug that knocked the wind from her lungs.

“Bee!” shouted a familiar voice as Byleth struggled to breath.

“Leonie, is that you?” Byleth wheezed as the red haired girl put her back down. This type of ambush was fairly common from her, and she couldn’t think of anyone else who would do this to her this early in a cycle.

“You bet it is,” Leonie said, “It’s been ages! Almost, what...six years now?”

“Seven,” Byleth corrected with a grin. She and Jeralt had spent a year in Sauin Village driving off a particularly nasty group of bandits. During that time, Leonie had tried to forced her way into the band, but wound up having to settle for sparring with Jeralt and Byleth during their spare time. After they left Leonie took over the task of driving off bandits and became something of a local hero, so when she asked her villagers to help her afford to attend the Officer’s Academy they were more than willing to assist.

Truth be told, Byleth didn’t actually remember any of this. Her understanding of the situation had come from asking Jeralt and Leonie about it over many cycles, slowly but surely piecing together the history they shared. Fortunately, she now knew enough details to act as if she treasured those memories.

“Claude mentioned that someone named Byleth saved his life,” Leonie said as she put her hands on her hips, “I didn’t think it was you at first cause of his description, but I’d know that face even with a different hair color.”

“Are you a student?” Byleth asked in an attempt to change the subject away from her appearance change.

“Sure am! My village helped me work up the money to come here.” Leonie grinned, “But what about you? How did you score a teaching job so easily?”

“Who told you that? That was supposed to be a secret...”

“Oh… uh, well, word gets around the Golden Deer pretty fast.” Leonie said sheepishly, “Claude told Hilda, Hilda told Marianne, but Lorenz overheard their conversation and he told Lysithea who told me. But that doesn’t matter. You should totally choose our house this year!”

“You know that doesn’t give me the best first impression of you all…” Byleth sighed as she folded her arms.

“Okay, so we’re not the best at keeping secrets... But besides that we’re all great!” Leonie confessed, “Plus, if you lead our house we’ll get to hang out all the time!”

“I’ll think about it,” Byleth said, “I’m sorry though, I was great to see you, but I’m actually meeting someone by the gate soon so I need to get going.”

“Oh… well, I’ll let you go then.” Leonie said, “But I’m glad you’re here! Have fun with whatever you’re doing. I’m going to go try to find Jeralt, I’m sure he’ll be super excited to see his favorite apprentice!” She wrapped Byleth in another tight hug before turning and jogging off towards the offices.

The wave of melancholy that had been patiently waiting in the back of Byleth’s mind crashed over her as she watched Leonie go. 

She could always choose to lead the Golden Deer again. Before she merged with Sothis in the first cycle she tended to interpret things very literally, so when Claude said that the Golden Deer, ‘Weren’t as difficult as the other two [houses],’ she had chosen them then and there. Even in later cycles she tended to pick them simply because she knew them the best.

She did feel that she had the best chance of defeating Those who Slither in the Dark with them at her side, but having to face her eight closest friends after they had all completely forgotten her was too much right now. She had done it before of course, but she had never survived that long. She needed to try something else. 

* * *

After taking some much needed time to get her emotions in check, Byleth headed towards the gate. She arrived at around a quarter after one, fearing that Manuela would be upset with her for being late. Fortunately for her, Manuela seemed to be far to engrossed in her conversation with the student she had brought along to be bothered by Byleth’s timing.

Dorothea smiled at her as she approached, whispering something to Manuela that interrupted her current monologue.

“Oh! Byleth!” Manuela said as she turned to face her, “I’m glad you’re here! I was worried you stood us up.”

“Sorry for being late… again,” Byleth said with a small bow, “I ran into an old friend on the way here.”

“So many lovely reunions,” Dorothea smiled, “My name is Dorothea, songstress and student at the academy. Manuela and I used to perform in the same company in Enbarr.”

“She was my understudy, and the most talented songstress I’d met since, well, myself. By the way…” Manuela said with a huff as she turned back to Dorothea, “You still haven’t told me about Marco. Did he actually wind up marrying… oh what was his name…”

“Azelio?” Dorothea offered.

Byleth didn’t contribute much to the conversation as they walked. Manuela rattled off a list of names to Dorothea, probing about romance, fortune, death, and everything in between. Dorothea patiently indulged her curiosity, her talent for storytelling turning the internal politics of the opera into something of an opera in and of themselves.

While the town beneath Garreg Mach wasn’t physically a part of the monastery, it was close enough that people simply referred to it as ‘The Town of Garreg Mach’. In truth, the town was never really intended to be one. It had started out simply, just the lower barracks for the knights and a blacksmith to keep them armed. But the monastery's occupants needed to eat, so they'd hired some hunters, and the land was fertile enough to grow crops so might as well bring in some farmers as well. Of course you needed somewhere to store the food so that means a warehouse, and everyone knows you can't eat raw grain and meat so the people in charge brought in a butcher and a baker. But what about pilgrims or other folks visiting? Well they'd need a tavern. And it would probably be prudent to bring in some craftsmen so they wouldn't have to import all the furniture, they'd need wood and stone so manual laborers were needed.

From this point, things had sort of just spiraled to the point that The Town celebrated the opening of its first haberdashery during the last Guardian Moon. And while the presence of a shop exclusively dedicated to selling hats was not necessarily gratuitous, a shop exclusively dedicated to selling fashion-forward hats was.

The three women sat in a small cafe near the center of town with the usual bustle of a new school year churning all around them. While the place was known more for tea than food, Byleth was too hungry to care that it took half a dozen dishes for her to feel full. She had busily torn through them while Manuela complained to Dorothea about something work related. Dorothea seemed like she was only vaguely interested in the subject, but did look rather impressed with Byleth’s appetite.

As Byleth sat contentedly back in her chair, Dorothea turned to her.

“So, Byleth,” she said as a break appeared in Manuela’s rant, “Manuela said you’re going to be working at the monastery this year.”

Byleth nodded, “I’m not sure what exactly they’re going to have me do,” she lied, catching Manuela’s smirk out of the corner of her eye, “But I might wind up joining the knights since my father got roped into being their captain.”

“That’s a fairly illustrious position to get ‘roped into’,” Dorothea mused.

“The church is a bit too… straight laced for him,” Byleth explained, “I think he’d rather be a merc, but its hard for anyone to say no to the Archbishop, even him.”

“I guess that makes sense. Honestly the knights are a bit too straight laced,” Dorothea smiled, “Most of the knights I’ve flirted with have been so… uptight.”

“Oh don’t even get me started on the knights,” Manuela frowned, “I swear Rhea makes them take a sacred oath when they become squires to not have any fun.”

“If that’s true this year is going to be very boring,” Dorothea sighed, “Promise me you won’t swear that oath Byleth, the world would lose a great treasure if you weren’t allowed to party like you apparently did last night.”

“Oh,” Byleth said, slightly embarrassed, “Manuela told you about that?”

“Why do you think she invited you?” Dorothea laughed.

“You reminded me of myself back in my opera company days,” Manuela said with a wistful sigh, “On the last night of a production we would drink until we couldn’t stand. Those nights were so fun. The following mornings… not so much. I thought you could use a distraction.”

“I was a bit more restrained than she was, but honestly after the last performance of _ The Emperor’s Bride _ I thought you’d never stand again.” Dorothea smiled as Manuela cringed slightly but gave a grudging nod. 

Just then, two figures broke out of the crowd headed swiftly towards them. The hairs on the back of Byleth’s neck sprang up instinctively, but she relaxed when she recognized the faces of Dimitri and Ingrid. Ingrid’s eyes were locked with hers.

“Professor Byleth,” Ingrid began as they reached the table, “Dimitri told me about what you did. I wanted to thank you both as myself and as a citizen of Faerghus.” She bowed deeply as Manuela shot Dimitri an angry glare and Dorothea raised an eyebrow.

“Dimitri,” Manuela said slowly, “Byleth’s appointment as a professor was supposed to be a secret.”

“Oh...” Dimitri said sheepishly, “My sincerest apologies professors. Ingrid and I were discussing what happened yesterday and I believe I referred to Prof- er, Byleth, by her new title. I promise that I will refrain from telling anyone else.”

“I suppose that will have to do...” Manuela sighed.

“What are you two lovely people in town for,” Dorothea asked in an attempt to defuse the situation.

“Dimitri told me that one of the traveling merchants had an exceptional lance for sale. My family’s Hero’s Relic is still in my father’s possession so I thought it would be a good idea to find a substitute for the time being.” Ingrid said, clearly grateful for a chance to change of subject, “We also wanted to pick up some celebratory pastries for the first day of classes.”

“It seemed like nice way of introducing everyone to the school,” Dimitri smiled. 

“That’s very kind of you,” Manuela nodded. Byleth remembered the pastries they brought in, and usually stole the idea whenever she was leading the Golden Deer.

“While I am here, I would also like to thank you again for aiding me and the other house leaders yesterday,” Dimitri said to Byleth with a small bow, “I hope you will consider choosing to lead the Blue Lions this year. I’m sure we could all grow significantly under your tutilage.”

“I’ll think about it,” Byleth said, “I still need to figure out what house I’m most qualified to lead.”

“That is understandable,” Dimitri said, clearly a bit disappointed that she wasn’t willing to commit this early.

“We should probably get going Dimitri,” Ingrid said as she craned her neck to see over the crowd, “It was lovely meeting you all though!”

They left the table and faded back into the crowd, leaving Byleth feeling even more uncertain about her future.

Perhaps she could lead the Blue Lions to victory in the war now that she had done so with the Golden Deer, but that would entail dealing with Dimitri’s psychological issues as well as addressing Those who Slither in the Dark. In truth, she was only able to help him recover two or three times, though she felt like she understood the conditions that helped him recover his sanity. 

But her campaigns with the Blue Lions never went as well as the ones she lead the Golden Deer in. Faerghus was far to concerned with honor and justice to use the kind of tactics required to defeat the Empire. And given that, she didn’t have much faith in their ability to defeat Those who Slither in the Dark.

* * *

After perusing several market stalls and two quaint boutiques, the three found themselves in a small shop near the edge of town. It was abundantly clear that Manuela had cultivated relationships with many of the merchants in town, as well as several blacksmiths that waved to her as she passed. It was also clear to Byleth that several of her ‘friends’ were affectionate more because of Manuela’s spending habits than her personality.

The two other women had insisted on buying Byleth several outfits to wear to class. She had drawn the line at wearing anything that might be found in Manuela’s wardrobe, but gave in to buying some more conservative feminine clothes that fit a teaching position. Byleth also bought a headband to keep her ears securely under her hair despite Manuela’s insistence that headbands were out of fashion.

As Manuela busily tore through every new dress in the shop last shop they visited, Byleth and Dorothea disinterestedly browsed a sale rack on the other side of the store. 

“So _ professor, _” Dorothea said slyly after a prolonged period of silence, “It seems like you’ve already made quite a name for yourself.”

“Believe me it wasn’t intentional,” Byleth sighed, picking a bizarre garment off of the rack before hastily putting it back.

“That’s no reason not to enjoy it,” Dorothea smiled, “You’ve got all three house leaders in your pocket, and you were scored a well paying job teaching at the most prestigious academy in Fodlan. I’m a bit jealous frankly.”

“Honestly I have no idea what Rhea was thinking. I mean, I’m only a few years older than some of the students,” Byleth said. Truth be told, this was still fairly accurate. Sure she had experience now, but in the first cycle Rhea had hired a random emotionless mercenary as a professor. Maybe it was because she knew Byleth was the reincarnation of the Goddess, but she didn’t see how that made her qualified to teach. 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Dorothea said, picking up the same garment Byleth had looked at before putting it back just as swiftly. “Edie was beside herself with admiration last night.”

“Huh?” Byleth said as she snapped out of a brief existential crisis brought on by suddenly remembering that she was apparently the literal Goddess.

“She was going on and on about your ‘prowess’ and your ‘bravery’. I’ve never heard her talk about someone like that…” Dorothea said, “What she failed to mention, as she usually does, was how beautiful you were.”

“Oh…” Byleth said as her cheeks turned bright red, “I… thank you.”

“Of course,” Dorothea winked, “The gallant hero saves the beautiful princess from a vicious blaggard. It’s like something out of an opera.”

Byleth scoffed before she could stop herself, eliciting a slightly offended expression from Dorothea.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, she needed an excuse for her reaction that wasn’t, ‘The idea of being paired up with Edelgard in any way, especially romantically, is extremely unpleasant to me’. 

“It’s just, fighting isn’t as… glamorous as it is in theatre. It’s hard to appreciate the narrative of a battle when you’re actually in the fray.”

They continued browsing in silence for several minutes, both too uncomfortable to say anything. Byleth felt awful for snapping at Dorothea like that, perhaps that excuse had been a bit too real.

“I’m sorry Byleth,” Dorothea said after a while, “I didn’t mean to make light of violence.”

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for bringing the tone of the trip down,” Byleth smiled sadly, “This was supposed to be fun after all.” 

“I guess that’s your first lesson as a professor huh?” Dorothea mused, “I’m honored to be the one to receive it.”

Byleth laughed softly. “Kind of a grim start to the year.”

They wrapped up their shopping shortly after Manuela emerged from the dressing room. The trip back to the monastery was slightly longer given that they were weighed down by their purchases, and they wound up passing through the gate right as the bell tower struck five. 

“This was so fun,” Manuela smiled, “We should make this a tradition.”

“Of course,” Dorothea said as Byleth nodded, “You and I need to spend as much time together as possible before I have to leave the monastery at the end of the year.”

“Absolutely. I can’t miss any opportunity to see my darling Dorothea.”

The two exchanged cheek kisses and a brief hug before Manuela set off back to her quarters. She managed to convince one of the knights by the gate to help her carry her things back with a wink and a smile. Her ability to convince people, especially men, to do what she wanted always impressed Byleth.

Before she left, Dorothea turned to Byleth.

“I did enjoy our time together,” she smiled, “I know you have a lot of other people begging for your attention, but I hope you’ll at least consider leading the Black Eagles this year.”

“You wouldn’t rather have Manuela teaching your class?” Byleth asked, genuinely surprised that Dorothea would ask this of her.

“Honestly it will be easier for us to stay friends if I’m not in her class, and she already taught me quite a bit while she was my senior,” Dorothea laughed, “You on the other hand… I think you could teach me quite a bit.”

“Oh… uh,” Byleth said awkwardly as she struggled to figure out whether that comment was flirting or not, “I’ll think about it. Like I said to Dimitri, I’ll have to see what house I’m most qualified to lead.”

“Well, either way, don’t be a stranger, _ professor… _” Dorothea winked. She set off towards the dorms, leaving Byleth alone at the gate.

The Black Eagles. 

Byleth had been deliberately avoiding thinking about Jeralt’s words from the night before, partly because the memories were a bit hazy, but mostly because she knew he was right. She had hit a wall, there was no denying it. The century she had spent fighting the Empire had wound up being all for naught in the end, as the Empire was only part of the problem. Perhaps she would eventually learn how to defeat both the Empire and Those Who Slither in the Dark if she lived another hundred cycles, but she wasn't sure if her sanity would last that long. She needed information, and she knew the easiest way to get it was from the inside.

But she was an empath, and part of what made it easy to oppose the Empire over and over again was not knowing anyone involved in it very well. What if she got too attached? Would she be able to bring herself to fight them in future cycles once she knew them on a personal level?

Maybe if she got to know them well enough she could find a way sway their loyalty to Edelgard. It would certainly make her life more difficult if her greatest generals were taken away from her. But could she really do that? None of the Black Eagles ever betrayed Edelgard when the war broke out, what made her think she could change their minds?

But she knew she needed to do something drastic, she knew that for a fact. Besides, whats the worst that could happen?

* * *

Byleth entered the war room several minutes before the meeting was set to begin. She hadn’t slept very well the night before, she was too distracted by indecision to sleep. At least, that’s what she told herself. In truth, she knew the decision she had come to, she just didn’t want to know it.

In lieu of a good night's sleep, she had settled for a cup of black coffee from the dining hall. She had picked up the habit, or perhaps more accurately the addiction, quite a while ago as she didn't sleep very well most nights. She had too many memories that belligerently demanded to be remembered when she lay down at night.

Hanneman was already present, and smiled at her as she entered. Manuela arrived shortly after Byleth and looked slightly annoyed that she was the last one in.

“Were you able to speak with some of the students yesterday Byleth?” Hanneman asked, studying her face carefully to determine whether or not she had come in hung over again.

“I did,” Byleth said confidently, “I also looked through all of the student’s applications last night before I went to sleep.”

“Excellent,” he smiled, “Its nice to see you defy my initial expectations of you.” 

“Now now, there’s no need to be rude Hanneman,” Manuela sighed, “Our colleague is simply adjusting to her new position.”

“I suppose…” he said, clearly still unconvinced.

“You know, I spent some of the yesterday with Byleth, and even in that limited time students were tripping over each other just to speak with her,” Manuela smiled, “And given that this is her first year, I believe she should be the first to pick her house.”

“I concur,” Hanneman said with a smile, “Do you have any idea which house you’d like to lead Byleth?” 

And here it was. The turning point. The decision that would shape the fate of this cycle. She took a deep breath. 

“I’ve thought about it,” She began, “And I think I’d like to lead the Black Eagle house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for chapter 4! Honestly I was struggling a bit with this one, but I wanted to talk about some history and some of Byleth's previous decisions. I also wanted to take Leonie's character in a new direction because honestly having her not be a childhood friend of Byleth's was a huge missed opportunity in the game. Having someone besides Jeralt who knew her prior to her arriving at the monastery would've been really interesting. (Also them not being childhood friends makes me wonder what Byleth was doing when Jeralt was in Sauin Village.) 
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up faster than this one was, I have a clearer idea of the structure of that one in my mind. Thanks for reading!


	5. The Third House - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth faces a familiar battle with unfamiliar allies, but despite some haphazard participant selection is still able to lead her house to victory. After the festivities Edelgard receives an unwelcome warning from Hubert.

**Great Tree Moon, 1181** **  
** **Byleth**

There was some not unexpected pushback from Hanneman regarding Byleth’s decision to lead the Black Eagles. She knew from past cycles that he had been looking forward to leading the house and had, perhaps appropriately, expected her to choose either the Blue Lions or the Golden Deer. He tried to sway her decision by explaining that the Black Eagles house had the highest concentration of students looking to study magic, and that she might be more comfortable teaching a house that wanted to focus on martial combat.

Fortunately for Byleth, she had cooked up a good excuse for her decision several sleepless hours before she arrived at the meeting. She explained that while it was true that the Black Eagles had the highest concentration of mages, they also had the highest concentration of nobles. This being the case, she surmised that they were the house most in need of a professor who A. had genuine experience in battle, and B. was of (relatively) common origins. While Hanneman seemed hesitant to accept this, Manuela was able to convince him to drop the issue by pointing out that they had both agreed to give Byleth first pick. After the long winded discussion of her choice was concluded, Hanneman settled for leading the Golden Deer and Manuela took the Blue Lions. 

The remainder of the meeting involved planning the upcoming mock battle. It was one that Byleth had fought many times and won almost as many times. As it turned out, the secret to victory was selecting a group of students that didn’t have any kind of interpersonal conflicts between them, as they would be able to focus entirely on the battle and not on their personal issues. After figuring this out she had assembled a go-to team for each house, but she didn’t know what relationships existed among the Black Eagles students. 

She spent the rest of the Sunday milling around the Monastery, using the time to reacquaint herself with many of the staff members and facilities. She had slipped up in earlier cycles and used someone’s name before she had officially met them, so she tended to try and ask people for their names as soon as possible to avoid that embarrassing scenario. She also went on a quick trip into town to purchase some pastries for her class, and was able to find a bakery that specialized in pastries from the Empire without much difficulty. She hoped that a taste of home would help endear her to the students and encourage them to open up to her. 

She ate dinner with her father and a handful of older knights she knew to be drinking buddies of his from back in the day. She wanted to avoid attention for tonight, and she found that it was easier to blend into a crowd when the people around you were almost twice your size and spent most of the meal boisterously recounting their heroic deeds from the past twenty years. She had of course heard all the stories before, but she always appreciated the flamboyance with which the knights told them.

After most of the monastery had gone to sleep, she snuck out of her room and into the night. She wouldn’t have much time to do research in the future given that classes were starting in two days, so she’d have to try to do the bulk of it now. She also knew that she should only do her research when Solon wasn’t around. If he was a member of Those Who Slither in the Dark, and their organization was related to Ailell in some way he probably would be a bit bothered by her interest in the region.

She crept into the library around eleven, careful to keep her lantern’s flame low as she pushed the heavy door open. A cursory glance around the room confirmed that it was empty, and with a relieved sigh she set about her work. 

She grabbed any tome off the shelf that was even remotely relevant to the subject. Multiple editions and volumes of the Book of Seiros, a section from the Traveler’s Journal, a handful of Anecdotal passages from novels, and a small cookbook containing a recipe for something called Ailell Roast Duck sat strewn on the table in front of her as she began to read. 

After several hours of searching, she found to her dismay that all of the information pointed in the same direction. Every book reiterated the story that Ailell was once a fertile valley populated by a corrupt civilization who lived in defiance of the Goddess, and in retaliation she utterly destroyed them and their land. 

But the information wasn’t supposed to all line up right? That’s not how this kind of thing was supposed to work. There was supposed to some dusty old tome that laid the truth bare for all to see, or a passage in one book that brought some of the information in another book into question, or at the very least a tiny bit of even slightly contradictory information.

But it all fit together perfectly, almost too perfectly perhaps. She knew Seteth personally curated the library’s collection, but she found herself both impressed and annoyed by how thorough he had been in his censorship.

One small thing was bugging her though. The Goddess presented in the Book of Seiros seemed like more of a ‘Benevolent peace loving motherly figure who wept at violence,’ kind of goddess than a, ‘Those who defy me will have their land and kin cleansed with holy flame,’ kind of goddess. What could the people of Ailell have possibly done to deserve that kind of wrath from a Goddess that apparently loved all humanity? If nothing else, she’d like to think that the Sothis she knew wasn’t the kind of person who would condemn an entire civilization to firey death just for being ‘corrupt’.

She heaved a more annoyed sigh as she left the library several hours later. The endeavor had proved to be largely fruitless, the only worthwhile information she found was in the cookbook, but only because the duck recipe sounded pretty tasty. Though she dreaded the concept she feared she would have to go to the valley personally.

* * *

Byleth awoke to the sound of the bell tower striking seven. She took her time getting out of bed and dressed the lighter of her two sets of armor. The academy used wooden weapons for the mock battle so the students wouldn’t grievously injure each other, but the things still hurt if they were swung with enough force. 

After a morning spent intentionally avoiding the student orientation, she set off to the training grounds. The area had originally been walled off during a particularly paranoid time in the Church’s past, and was at the time used to grow the only crops that the Monastery’s higher ups would eat. As tensions dissipated, the practice was deemed unnecessary and the land was given to the knights so they would have a space within the walls of the Monastery to practice in. Now, the only things that grew in there were particularly sturdy trees and long, tough grasses that could survive being trampled under foot on a daily basis. 

The brilliant midday sun bathed the fields in a warm glow as she made her way to her class’s rally point. It was a large flagpole on which was mounted a crimson banner bearing the twin headed eagle of the Adrestian Empire. Below it was a rack containing several different wooden weapons, a crude bow, some blunt arrows, and several strips of red cloth used to mark non-combatants. 

It felt inherently wrong for her to be standing under the banner of a nation she had spent decades trying to destroy, but she knew that she had to force thoughts like that out of her mind as they did nothing but shake her resolve. She had to remind herself that the current cycle was what mattered, everything else was in the past. Or possibly the future. Well… not this future, another future. She wasn’t really sure. She tried not to think about the specifics of time travel too much.

As she retrieved a sword from the weapon rack, she realized that she also had to get used to the idea that Edelgard was in her class now. She wasn’t looking forward to that, but if she wanted to learn more about her she would have to actually interact with the woman. Who knows, maybe as the head of the Black Eagles she could convince Edelgard to find a more peaceful route? And then maybe as an encore she could convince the tide to turn back or convince the sun to stop shining.

The first student crested the hill behind her about thirty minutes before the battle was set to begin. She recognized the groomed red hair and impressive frame as he jogged towards her, his light plate armor gleaming in the midday sun. He stopped about ten feet in front of her with a confused look on his face.

“Good afternoon!” Ferdinand said cheerfully, “I do not believe we have met. I am Ferdinand Von Aegir, legitimate son of the Aegir family, the Empire’s foremost house. Are you perchance a new member of the Black Eagles?”

“Kinda...” Byleth replied, “I’m your house’s professor, Byleth Eisner.”

“Oh! My apologies Professor!” Ferdinand said with a small bow, “I will admit I was not expecting someone so…”

“Young?” Byleth offered.

“Well… yes,” he admitted, “I assume you are the same Byleth who stepped in to rescue Edelgard earlier this week?”

“The very same,” she smiled.

“In that case, I look forward to learning from you!” Ferdinand said confidently, “Edelgard was quite impressed by your abilities, and she is not an easy person to impress.”

“I guess I've already got a reputation to live up to then.”

Was Edelgard always so impressed by her at the beginning of a cycle? The thought of her praising Byleth in a way that wasn’t also a bit condescending seemed wrong. But at this point they weren’t enemies, so anything was possible. 

Just then, two more students crested the hill. Even from this distance Byleth could recognize Edelgard’s brilliant white hair and red half cloak as she leisurely made her way to the rally point. The figure behind her was a bit harder to make out, but was tall, dark and followed her like a shadow, so Byleth could safely assume it was Hubert. She noticed a small smile cross Edelgard’s lips as they reached her, and an equally small frown cross Hubert’s. 

“Edelgard, so nice of you to finally join us,” Ferdinand said before anyone else could speak up, “Do you not think it a bit rude to arrive with so little time to spare?”

Edelgard shot him a look and Byleth was impressed by how little he squirmed under her withering gaze. “Byle-” She began, as she turned to face her, “Er- Professor Byleth! I assume your presence here means that you’ve been chosen to lead the Black Eagles.”

“I have, Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela let me to choose my house first since I'm new to the academy,” Byleth smiled, praying that the smile didn’t look as forced as it was, “After going over your applications I realized it would be good for you all to learn from someone other than a noble for once.” 

“Interesting... I admit I was hoping that you would be assigned to teach our class, and I'm delighted to learn that you specifically chose us.” Edelgard said, “Based on your understanding of our house, how do you feel about our chances in the mock battle?”

“As long as you're all as skilled as you say you are on your applications, we shouldn't have any trouble winning,” Byleth replied.

“So confident… This will be interesting,” Edelgard mused, after a moment she added, “I feel you should know that I will be using your performance in this battle to measure your worth as an instructor.”

What the hell did that mean? “I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.” 

Byleth turned to Hubert, who was regarding her with a calculating stare. “Sorry, I didn't get your name.” 

“Hubert Von Vestra,” he said flatly. There was something off about this. Usually the first time she spoke with him he thanked her for helping to save Edelgard’s life in an uncharacteristically genuine way, but he seemed hesitant, guarded even.

While she would say that she was at least acquainted with the other Black Eagles students, she had to admit that Hubert was more than a bit of an enigma to her. She could pick his face out of a crowd certainly, if only because he likely loomed over the crowd. But beyond his appearance and the knowledge that he was a retainer to Edelgard, she didn’t know much about him. 

She generally felt a bit nervous in his presence, but she got the sense that that was what he wanted. He gave off the impression that he could, and would, kill you without a second thought, and that it was better to just let him do what he wanted to. However, what interested her was his willingness to leave the note he left at the end of the last cycle, as it suggested that he was not actually that bad a person. At least, not as bad a person as he wanted people to think he was. 

If she was going to try to lure Edelgard’s allies away from her prior to the war, he would definitely be the most difficult to persuade, if it was possible to persuade him at all. 

“Oh yeah, I remember your application,” Byleth smiled, pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, “You're a black mage right?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you get the monks to put a damper on your magic?” 

“I did.” 

“Professor,” Edelgard chimed in, drawing Byleth's attention back to her. While she hated to admit it, Byleth was slightly glad to have an excuse to stop talking to Hubert. “As I am the house leader, I think it appropriate that I participate in today’s mock battle, don’t you agree?”

“You're participating whether you want to or not,” Byleth said, “It's required for house leaders.”

“If Lady Edelgard is participating today I would like to request that I participate as well,” Hubert said calmly as he continued staring at Byleth.

“Of course,” she said, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“I would also very much like to fight today,” Ferdinand beamed, “If you will allow me Professor.”

“That seems fair to me,” Byleth smiled, “You were the first one here after all.”

Edelgard quickly selected an axe from the weapon rack behind her while Ferdinand mulled over which of the two nearly identical wooden lances he would use. Hubert stayed right where he was, watching Edelgard like a hawk.

Over the next fifteen or so minutes, the remainder of the Black Eagles students made their way to the rally point. Petra was the next to make an appearance, and she greeted Byleth with a somewhat broken phrase that she resolved to help the girl with. Dorothea arrived a few minutes later with Bernedetta, and was quite excited to see that Byleth had chosen to lead the Black Eagles. Bernadetta merely avoided eye contact and attempted to hide behind the taller woman. Finally, Caspar and Lindhardt came jogging over the hill only a few minutes before the battle was set to begin. 

“Sorry we’re late guys,” Caspar said in between heavy breaths, “Lindhardt didn’t wake up from his nap on time so I had to hunt him down.”

“I planned on waking up later quite frankly,” Lindhardt panted with a furrowed brow, “It’s not like I’ll be needed in the mock battle.”

“But we have to be here, right? Its a rule or something! What if the professor gets mad at us for not showing up on time?” Caspar said, as a confused look came over his face he added, “Speaking of which, where is the professor?”

“Right here, Byleth Eisner,” Byleth said with a raised hand, “I take it you’re Caspar?”

“Oh! Yeah, Caspar Von Bergliez, pleased to meet ya!” he grinned, extending a hand to her, “Sorry, I wasn't expecting our professor to be someone our age.”

“Easy, Caspar. Aren’t you being a bit rude?” Dorothea scolded.

“It’s alright Dororthea, I get that a lot,” Byleth laughed as she gave Caspar a firm handshake. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Ferdinand looking guiltily at the ground, “And Lindhardt, you actually will be needed in the mock battle.”

“What?” Lindhardt said, clearly alarmed.

“You’re a white mage, right?” Byleth asked, “Every merc knows that you should never go into battle without a healer.”

“Well, I do have an interest in white magic...” he replied cautiously, “But this is a mock battle isn’t it? No one is actually going to get hurt…”

“Trust me, wooden weapons can still do a lot of damage if swung with enough force, and the battle doesn't stop until one side surrenders. With a healer on our team we can keep people on their feet longer,” Byleth said, noticing the combination of panic and dismay in Lindhardt’s face, “Just stay away from enemy fighters, understood?”

“Yes Professor...” he sighed.

* * *

Byleth considered the students they would likely be up against as her eyes scanned the fields ahead of them. When Hanneman led the Golden Deer he tended to bring Claude, Lysithea, and Lorenz, and Claude would insist that Hilda also participate no matter how much she insisted on not participating. As the leader of the Blue Lions, Manuela generally had Dimitri, Dedue, Ashe, and Annette with her.

Byleth would engage the Golden Deer first as theirs was the more defensible position. She knew from past experience that she could earn an easy victory if she goaded the Blue Lions into attacking the farmhouse while they were inside.

The land between them and the farmhouse was a open field and rough road that ended with an imposing wooden barricade composed of sharpened, lashed together logs. Beyond this was a thick copse of trees, and beyond that was another long stretch of farmland with the cabin at the end. It was almost impossible to take the territory if they tried to go through the barricade, so they would have to take the long way around.

She lead her students forward, using a small wood to cover their advance. As they emerged from the treeline, Byleth heard the familiar voice of Lorenz as it carried across the plain. 

“-tactics are required Claude,” he was shouting towards the barricade, “It will be no trouble for Lysithea and I to dismantle the opposition before they ever reach you.”

After swiftly dispatching Lorenz and Lysithea, their party resumed their long walk around the barricade. During their trek, Byleth spotted Ashe hiding somewhere in the long grass, and at her command Ferdinand and Lindhardt took him out of the fight. 

“Claude will be somewhere in the treeline,” Byleth said quietly as they approached the copse of trees behind the barricade, “And he's definitely not alone. Keep an eye out for any kind of movement as we approach.” She glanced over at the farmhouse. Hanneman was waiting on the second floor, watching them closely from his vantage point.

As they crept forward, Byleth’s ears caught the twang of a bowstring as it carried across the field. She stole a second using her crest, hoping to use the extra time to locate the source of the shot.

But something distracted her. Using her crest felt… different. Before when she used its power she had to reach out to it as if it were somehow far away, and each time she did she felt herself lose a little bit of stamina. But she didn’t have to reach for it this time, it seemed as if time stopped as soon as she willed it to. As she stood, dazed for a moment that existed only for her, her eyes caught something hanging in the air that was headed straight for Edelgard. Byleth shook herself out of her trance. She had to focus.

She knew she didn’t have time to warn Edelgard, so her best option was to shove her, knocking to the ground before diving down herself. Edelgard turned to look at Byleth with a more than slightly offended and possibly panicked expression until she saw the arrow pass harmlessly overhead. 

“Where did that come from?” Ferdinand shouted as he and the rest of the party crouched down, their eyes scanning the treeline.

Another arrow sailed at Byleth as they crept cautiously forward. She considered using her crest again, but was nervous about the way it felt. She dodged out of the way at the last second, resolving to experiment with the power when she had time.

“They’re coming from between those two tall pines” Lindhardt said as yet another arrow came flying from the wood. It collided with Hubert’s shoulder, causing him to let out an involuntary grunt.

“Good job Lindhardt,” Byleth grinned as she motioned to Ferdinand and Edelgard, “Stay here and take care of Hubert, but keep an eye on Hanneman in the farmhouse. If he tries to approach, rally to the woods.”

“There’s also someone behind the large oak to the left,” Lindhardt shouted after them as they charged forward. Byleth caught a glimpse of pink hair as he mentioned this and saw the haft of an axe sticking out one side of the tree.

“Ferdinand, bear right, deal with the person behind the oak!” Byleth shouted as they reached the edge of the woods, “Edelgard, with me, we’re going to flank Claude.” 

They broke off in their appointed directions as they reached the treeline. After hearing Ferdinand begin his fight with Hilda, Byleth motioned for Edelgard to take the long way around the trees. 

Byleth spotted Claude’s bow hanging on a low branch as she pushed through the underbrush, indicating that he had likely opted to switch to a melee weapon. She knew that Claude was fully aware of his inexperience in melee combat, so he would likely try to play mind games instead of actually fight.

“Now, coming up with brilliant schemes I can handle. No problem.” His voice carried out of a clearing as Byleth pushed her into it, “But I’m not much for fighting, so go easy on me okay?” 

“Sorry, but you know what you signed up for when you came to the academy,” Byleth said, watching Edelgard as she slowly got into position behind him.

“Can’t blame me for trying,” he shrugged, settling into an uncomfortable looking stance with his axe. She could see his eyes move as he heard a twig snap behind him.

Something in her mind cried out as she slowly walked forward. She wanted to warn him. To get between him and Edelgard. She had to save him right? It was Claude, one of her oldest friends! She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. She had to keep reminding herself that Edelgard was not the enemy for now.

He reacted sluggishly as she lashed out at his chest, only managing to block the blow by moving the head of his axe in front of the sword. He staggered backward, attempting to shift his grip back to the handle of his axe. 

His gaze darted behind him and his mouth opened as Edelgard sprinted forward, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop her axe as it slammed into his ribs. He doubled over and tumbled down, letting out a startled yelp as he did. 

He staggered to his feet, leaving his weapon on the ground where he had dropped it. “You got me princess,” he coughed, his gaze moving to the sound of someone new entering the clearing, “It looks like the Golden Deer are done here.” 

Byleth followed his eyes to see Ferdinand’s grinning face as he came to meet them. She could see the other two members of their party some ways away in the field headed briskly towards their position.

“You fought well Claude, your skill as an archer is without question,” Edelgard said. Seeming a little embarrassed she added, “I apologize for not holding back.”

“It’s fine… I guess its good to know how hard you can hit,” Claude winced as he touched his ribs, “You’ve got some impressive reflexes Teach.”

“You have to as a mercenary,” Byleth shrugged, “Do you think you're well enough to get off the field?"

“I’ll be fine,” he said, pulling his hand away from his side, “I’ve had worse. Thanks for the thought though.” He headed off towards the sidelines, meeting up with Hilda on the way there.

The Black Eagles set off for the cabin and were able to get Hanneman out of his fortified position without much difficulty. After descending from the second floor, the elderly professor begrudgingly returned to his house’s rally point to take their banner down. As it fell, the herald let out a long, shrill note on his horn.

The Blue Lions would likely be en route to the farmhouse by now. Once they heard the horn, Manuela would come to the conclusion that the only way they would beat the remaining house was by taking the cabin.

She had her students hunker down behind dilapidated walls as she spotted Dimitri and Dedue trudging across the field. She could see their eyes scanning the upper floor for Hanneman, but Manuela called her students back as soon as she noticed the missing Golden Deer banner. 

They began to circle around the house, making sure to keep out of the range of any archers or mages that may be lurking in the building. Byleth whispered to her students, telling them to stay down and only engage once the Blue Lions got within melee range. 

“Black Eagles!” Dimitri called from a dozen or so yards away, “Come out and face us in honorable combat!”

She insisted her students stay down as the Blue Lions begin to spread out. Dedue was closest to her, and was holding his axe out defensively as he advanced. At Manuela’s signal, the students charged into the building. 

Byleth intercepted Dedue as he ran in, using her superior speed to avoid his wild swing. She knew it would hurt if he did hit her, but she also knew he wouldn’t. They fought for some time, and though Byleth struck him several times, Manuela stood behind him, healing any damage she dealt. After a number of deft dodges and a flurry of taps on various vital points with her sword, Dedue admitted defeat with an ashamed look on his face. Feeling a bit guilty, she complimented his fighting technique and offered to give him some pointers if he was interested. He agreed with a slight smile and headed off the field. 

While they were fighting, Annette moved in to engage Lindhardt. She fired off a series of wind blasts at him as he tried to get out of the way, but he found himself backed into a corner and forced to try and counter her magic. While Annette was distracted, Ferdinand moved into a flanking position and used his lance to trip her as she focused on another spell. Ferdinand leant down to help her to her feet after she surrendered, genuinely worried that he had given her a concussion.

Confident that the other members of the house were distracted, Edelgard emerged from the ruins and locked eyes with Dimitri.

“Dimitri,” she said as she approached him, axe at the ready, “This will be an excellent opportunity to answer the question of which of us is stronger.”

“Very well,” Dimitri smiled, tightening his grip on his lance, “I accept your challenge. With you as my opponent, I won’t hold anything back.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

They took off towards each other, wooden weapons clacking together as they exchanged blows. Byleth thought it best to let them settle this between themselves as she disinterestedly crossed swords with Manuela.

Manuela surrendered to Byleth after only a minute or so of mostly theatrical swordplay when she noticed the tide of the house leaders’ fight turning in Edelgard’s favor. Edelgard swung her axe in a wide arc as Dimitri slammed his lance into the floor, and with one swift motion she pulled her opponent to the ground. After he sheepishly got to his feet, Manuela’s house officially admitted defeat. The herald let out a second shrill note on his long horn as the Blue Lion’s banner dropped from its post. 

* * *

Per Monastery tradition, the house that won the mock battle was allowed to choose the menu for the night. After much bickering on the walk back to the monastery, the students eventually settled on a hearty chicken risotto commonly eaten in Enbarr followed by a wide array of deserts from all over the continent. In all honesty, the discussion was mostly concerned with what came after the meal, as most of the students in the house seemed to care very little about the dinner itself.

Byleth arrived early in the evening, hoping to eat quickly and return to her room before any of her students flocked to her. While she knew she had to get used to interacting with them eventually, she wanted to try and take things slowly. She wasn’t used to them treating her this way, like she was one of them. Truthfully, she was far more accustomed to them trying to kill her. 

She stifled a grimace as she looked up from her plate a few minutes after sitting down. The entire house had arrived already, and at least some of them were looking at her or waving. She waved back and forced a smile, realizing that she was about to be thrown into the deep end. As her students turned away, she quickly finished the wine she had been drinking and flagged down one of the monks to bring her another. She felt like she was going to need it.

Dorothea was the first to her table with a broad smile on her face. “Do you mind if we sit with you Professor? You are the woman of the hour after all,” She asked as she pulled the chair across from Byleth out. 

“Not at all,” Byleth smiled as she swore violently in her mind.

Edelgard was the next to arrive, and took a seat to the right of Dorothea. After her, the remainder of the class quickly made their way to the table and before long it was alive with conversation and laughter. Before she even looked at her meal, Edelgard turned to Byleth.

“Professor, I wanted to congratulate you on exceeding my expectations,” she began as her violet eyes pierced into Byleth’s, “Thanks to your leadership we were able to defeat both of the other houses with ease.”

“I can't take all the credit,” Byleth shrugged, “A tactician is nothing without competent soldiers.”

“You are far more than just a skilled tactician. Most of the tacticians I knew in Enbarr would have no chance against you in actual combat." Edelgard smiled, "But I suppose you’re right, we would never have achieved victory if we could not work together.”

A hush fell over the table as Edelgard’s words reached their ears, and all eyes found their way to her. Byleth saw her face turn a bit red.

“What?” she said, “Is it so odd, me talking about togetherness… If so that must change. 

“In fact, I’m canceling the festivities so we can discuss this topic further.” She said haughtily. The other students stared at her with faces in various stages of grief until she began speaking again, “I’m kidding, of course… We’ve all earned this celebration.”

Byleth noticed Hubert chuckle at Edelgard’s side, but she was distinctly aware of his eyes on her whenever she wasn’t looking in his direction. 

“I also wanted to thank you for saving my life yet again,” Edelgard said after the table's attention drifted away from her, “I likely would’ve had to bow out of the battle if Claude’s arrow had found its mark.”

“No problem,” Byleth smiled, “I couldn't let Claude take out my strongest soldier.”

“_One _ of your strongest soldiers,” Ferdinand butted in from Byleth’s right, “In fact, I believe I was able to defeat more enemies on my own than Edelgard was.”

“Ferdinand, please… must you make everything a competition?” Edelgard sighed.

“As the future Prime Minister it is my duty to challenge you in everything you do!” He said confidently.

“I don’t believe you truly understand your role…” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose “You are an advisor yes, but that does not mean you must constantly play the contrarian.”

“I do not always contradict you,” Ferdinand said defensively, “I merely- Professor, why are you smiling?”

“Sorry,” Byleth said through a stifled laugh, “I didn't realize how bad the blood between you two was. You work surprisingly well together.”

“It’s not a rivalry so much as…” Edelgard shook her head, “Regardless, don't worry about our relationship Professor. We are perfectly capable of putting our differences aside on the battlefield.” 

“Indeed,” Ferdinand laughed, “While we disagree on many things, we are both ultimately fighting for the same cause.”

“Also, I’ve been meaning to ask... Given that we are relatively close in age, would you be comfortable with us treating you as one of our own Professor?” Ferdinand continued, “We try to treat each other equally despite differences in age or status. Personally, I would love to include you in that inner circle.” Some of the other students spoke up as he said this, voicing similar sentiments.

“I don’t mind at all,” Byleth smiled, “And please, Professor is way too formal for me. You can just call me Byleth.” 

“You have a gut Byleth. I have much excitement about this year,” Petra said from the seat next to her. 

Before Byleth could speak up, Dorothea patiently turned to Petra, “I think you meant to say that she has _ guts _ Petra,” she said slowly, “Having guts and having a gut mean very different things.”

“Oh,” Petra said sheepishly, “Please take my apologies. I have not yet mastered this language.”

“Its fine,” Byleth said, “If that’s something you’d like to study, I’m sure we can spend some time each week practicing.”

“I would be liking that greatly!” She grinned, “I have been doing much practicing, but I would love to have a more… um… formal instruction.”

“Hey Professor!” Caspar called to her from across the table, “When do we get to start training? I’m ready and rarin' to go!”

“Tomorrow,” Byleth smiled, “Speaking of which, you all have to be in class at eight sharp, got it?”

The students all agreed, some more enthusiastically than others. Lindhardt in particular groaned about as unsubtly as he could. The conversation began to drift to other topics as the students broke off into smaller groups, and Byleth’s mind began to wander as she picked at her food.

_ I’ve killed everyone at this table. _

The thought could only be described as intrusive if one also described a battering ram as intrusive. She shook her head and begged her mind to forget about those battles for now but it belligerently refused. Though she tried to carry on conversations, she couldn’t look at any of her students without remembering what their faces looked like as she plunged her blade into them.

After about a quarter of an hour, she made her excuses and left. As she got ready for bed, she hoped that getting a good nights sleep would get the grisly images out of her mind. In turn, she hoped she could actually get a good nights sleep for once.

* * *

**Edelgard**

Edelgard was dimly aware of Hubert somewhere behind her as she exited the dining hall an hour or so after Byleth did. He was a fairly quiet man, but she had long ago learned to recognize his muted presence in her periphery. It was somewhat disconcerting at first, but she knew now that he meant her no harm, and would do everything in his power to stop anyone who did.

His pace sped up as she made her way to her room, and before long she felt him looming over her.

“Lady Edelgard...” he began.

“Hmm?” she whispered back. Given that Hubert opened most of their conversations simply by saying her name, she had started to try and guess the nature of the conversation based on how he said it. She took some pride in her ability to discern his intent by the tone of his normally monotonous voice, and believed that she was likely the only person in the world who knew him well enough to do so. This time he seemed… concerned? Perhaps even a bit excited?

“There is an urgent matter we need to discuss.” He whispered as leaned over her shoulder.

“Of course,” She said, silently congratulating herself on successfully reading the situation, “Is this a matter that requires discretion?”

He nodded solemnly. Edelgard lead him up to her quarters, scanning the hall conspiratorially before closing and barricading the door with her chair. She hated that the doors to their dorms didn’t have locks on them, and in the past month had gotten into the habit of barricading her door every night just to be safe.

“Did you discover something about my uncle’s activities?” She asked as she returned to the bed and sat down.

“Unfortunately, no...” he grimaced, “The church’s records merely confirm what we already knew. I actually needed to speak with you about our Professor.”

“Oh?” She said. She had noticed his hestitance when speaking with Byleth, but she knew that he was always suspicious of new people. Truthfully, they both saw everyone as a threat until proven otherwise, but Edelgard did not have the luxury of being cold to them until they made their intentions abundantly clear. It was her duty to be a model leader after all, so she had to at least be civil.

“Before we came to the monastery, you allowed me access to the secret history of the church as recorded by Wilhelm I,” He said, eyes closed as he reached into his memory, “If I recall correctly, he describes Saint Seiros’s human form as a ‘woman of immaculate beauty, with hair of palest green and eyes of shimmering jade. However, her ears and teeth belie her origins as one of the Children of the Goddess; If one is especially perceptive, one may notice that both are abnormally pointed’. He also mentions later in his accounts that the Four Saints possessed similar traits when they took human form.”

“Yes, I remember,” Edelgard said, wondering if his suspicions were similar to Claude’s. “I understand that her hair and eye color resemble those described in Wilhelm’s accounts, but there are plenty of people with similar traits in Enbarr.”

“It’s more than that. When I was returning from the library the other night, I happened to...” He paused as he considered his words, “...run into our new Professor while she was quite… intoxicated. Though she excused herself rather quickly, I did notice that her ears were, as Wilhelm said, ‘abnormally pointed’. I also took it upon myself to examine her teeth during our dinner today, and I believe that some of them are sharper than average.”

So Claude may have actually been on to something. In truth, the possibility that Byleth was one of the Children of the Goddess had occurred to her even before Claude pointed out her similarities to Rhea, and it certainly would explain Rhea’s sudden and rash decision to hire Byleth as a professor. 

“What concerns me the most,” Hubert continued, “Is that she may have started to say my name upon seeing my face, but quickly stopped herself before she completed the word...”

“Do you think she has been spying on us?” Edelgard asked, “I don’t believe we have done anything…untoward in the time we’ve been at the monastery.”

“If she has than I shall have to ask her to train me in stealth...” Hubert said with a sort of half smile, “But I do not believe so.”

“According to Wilhelm, the only remaining Children of the Goddess at the end of the War of Heroes were Seiros and the Four Saints.” Edelgard said after some consideration, “Is it possible that she is one of them? Saint Cethleann perhaps?” 

“I cannot say for sure… It stands to reason given that Cethleann was the only female saint.” he said as his glum expression returned, “Regardless, I believe we should be extremely cautious in the Professor’s presence until we understand her motives and her relationship with the church.”

“I agree…” Edelgard sighed dejectedly, “While I cannot say that I am happy to learn this, I appreciate you bringing it to me. I’d like you to observe her in your off hours for the time being and report anything unusual to me.”

“Consider it done,” Hubert said with a bow. He moved the chair back to its original position and left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Edelgard flopped down on the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling after barricading her door again. She was… disappointed to learn that Byleth wasn’t who she said she was. She had been looking forward to her time at the academy, and had hoped that she would be able to enjoy herself a bit before… 

But she knew now that she would have to constantly be on guard. Well, more so than usual. She couldn’t begin to understand exactly what Byleth’s motivations were, but given that she was one of the Children of the Goddess, it was safe to assume that her loyalties lay with the church.

What made her feel a little better was the fact that Byleth jumped in front of Kostas’s blade to save her, as it indicated that the church likely hadn’t caught wind of her plans. If they had, Byleth may have even personally tried to slay her.

Perhaps she could try and learn some of Byleth’s secrets before she became an enemy. Anything Edelgard could uncover about her foe would give her an advantage when it came time to fight her, right?

She glumly got ready for bed, resolving to act as if nothing had changed in the morning. For now she just had to play the role of the optimistic, hardworking student, no matter how far that role was from the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wound up getting more stuck on this chapter than I thought I would, and as usual it wound up being longer than intended. Trying to get the dialogue to sound natural was really tripping me up in places, but I think I'm okay with posting it now. At least this will allow me to start writing the next chapter. Things should start to move along more quickly now, but we'll see.


	6. Unfamiliar Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Byleth introduces the Black Eagles students to Garreg Mach, Edelgard attempts to discern her professor's relationship with the church. Later, Byleth finds that her usual trip to Zanado feels... different this time.

**Harpstring Moon, 1181** **  
** **Byleth**

Byleth jerked awake to the sound of a raindrop hitting her window, though in truth she hadn’t been completely asleep. Her body had rudely awoken her shortly after three in the morning with visions of past cycles and had refused to let her go back to sleep. In the intervening few hours she had strived to get any amount of additional rest, but she knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she was just waiting for the first drop of rain to fall.

It always rained on the first day of classes. Like most rain, it was not particularly remarkable. It rained fairly often around Garreg Mach in the spring, so no one was especially surprised or bothered when it did come rolling in. 

But Byleth was never surprised by the weather, not anymore. She didn’t exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge of it, but it was like remembering the words to a song as you listen to it. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know every line, but you need to hear the words in sequence to remember the exact order and phrasing. For instance, she knew that the rain would clear up in the midafternoon, and it would not rain again until Wednesday around noon.

She got out of bed and stretched, wincing when she heard a not insignificant number of her joints crack. She dressed in one of the outfits she had bought with Manuella and Dorothea, but the intended ‘good professor’ image was undercut slightly by the heavily worn traveling cloak she threw over it. As always, she tucked her ears behind her headband and checked thoroughly in the mirror to make sure they were safely hidden away. Before leaving, she stashed the box of pastries she had bought the other day into her bag and layed some already memorized files on top of them to protect them from the rain.

She slipped into the dining hall two hours before class started to grab a cup of coffee and a piece of toast. Most people weren’t roaming the grounds this early, and she apologized profusely to the kitchen staff after she made her requests. They were overworked to say the least, and she felt bad about interrupting one of the few free periods they had during the day. That said, she was dead tired, and desperately needed something to get her through class.

She had to actively stop herself from walking into the Golden Deer or Blue Lion’s classrooms as she made her way across the academy grounds. As expected, the Black Eagles’ was almost identical to the other two, but something about it just felt inherently wrong. The bricks were in the wrong places, the banners the wrong color, and the bookshelves had all the wrong books on them. 

As she hung her cloak on one of the peg by the door she heard a thud from somewhere near the front of the chamber. She directed her gaze to the source and spotted a figure quickly unfolding from under one of the desks. 

“Oh, good morning Hubert,” she said as she moved her hand away from the dagger still lashed to her hip, “You’re here early.”

“Yes I...” he winced as he rubbed the back of his head, “I was... looking for something I lost during the orientation yesterday.”

“Don’t let me interrupt then,” she smiled, “Did you hurt your head?”

“I’m quite alright,” he said sharply, “Your entrance merely took me by surprise.”

“Oh… sorry about that,” Byleth said. She removed the box of pastries from her bag and placed it on her desk as she sat down.

“Fortunately for you, you get first pick of these,” she said, gesturing to the box. He silently approached her desk and eyed the box suspiciously as if he was afraid it would explode. After a slightly uncomfortable amount of deliberation, he selected one of the less garish pastries and returned to one of the desks.

After he sat down Byleth took the stack of files from her bag and stared blankly at them while preparing to face her students. Several minutes of awkward silence later, Hubert elected to get up and retrieve a book from the shelves. Byleth noticed that he very pointedly only took one bite out of the pastry before ignoring it or perhaps forgetting all about it about it.

As the rest of the students made their way to class, Byleth found herself surprised by their relative punctuality. Even Lindhardt, who’s disdain for traditional educational scheduling was somewhat infamous, wound up shambling into class before the belltower struck eight. By contrast, she usually wasn’t able to start class with the Golden Deer until 8:30 at the earliest when Hilda exuberantly burst into the room with an over dramatic speech about her difficulties getting ready that morning.

After the students had taken their seats, eaten their pastries, and settled down, Byleth cleared her throat and stood from her desk. She introduced herself again and gave her standard schpiel about the potential and talent within all of them, explaining in detail how she would be putting them through rigorous training to bring out their best and transform them into the next great leaders of Fodlan. 

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering why someone my age was chosen to lead your class,” she continued, looking out over their faces, each of which belied at least a little bit of curiosity, “In case any of you haven’t heard, a new Captain was recently appointed to lead the Knights of Seiros. His name is Jeralt Eisner, but you may know him as ‘The Blade Breaker’.”

“As you may have guessed based on my name, I am Jeralt’s daughter, but I promise you that I am not here because of my family connections. To put it simply, I am a professional soldier. In the six years before I came here I was an active member of Jeralt’s company, and have been a part of... more live battles than I can count. If anyone doubts my qualifications, I’d be happy to demonstrate my abilities,” She said with a smile, “Does anyone have any questions about me or my past before I move on?”

Based on their shifting gazes Byleth could tell that at least a few of them had questions, but apparently her tone had made them a little too nervous to actually ask them. Though she didn’t want to come off as harsh to her students, she preferred not having to answer questions about her past. Especially her old title, ‘The Ashen Demon’. The title and the rumors surrounding it were far too incongruous with her current personality to explain away easily.

“In that case, I’d like to go over our schedule for the year. There will be a mandatory lecture in this room every day from eight in the morning to noon. We will be discussing history on Mondays, tactics on Tuesdays, mathematics and arcane science on Wednesdays, white magic, black magic, or martial combat on Thursdays, and on Fridays we will have a mock battle in the training grounds instead of the normal lecture. I will also meet with each of you once a week for around three hours after lunch to help tutor you in whatever you want to learn. The schedule for these private lessons will be posted on the wall near the door by the end of the day. I want you all to remember, however, that you only have a year here, so make sure you don’t waste the time you have off. The training grounds and library are always open, so make sure that you use them.

“Today, I’d like to hold some one on one meetings to discuss what you’re interested in learning here at the Academy. Those of you that I’m not meeting with should go to the student training grounds and spar. Just stick to the covered areas until the rain lets up. Since I won’t be there to keep you on track, I’d like one of you to make sure everyone stays focused. Would anyone like to volunteer?”

“You can count on me Byleth!” Ferdinand said as his hand shot up, “I will make sure everyone follows your instructions to the letter.”

“Wonderful,” she smiled, “For today, I’d like you to work with a weapon you are unfamiliar with. See if you can understand why some people prefer it.”

Byleth turned her gaze to Edelgard as she continued, “Edelgard, I’d like to start my meetings with you if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

The rest of the students filed out of the room and into the rain, covering themselves with whatever they had to hand as they quickly made their way to the training grounds. This was the part that made Byleth nervous. Her monologue about the schedule and the student’s task for today was well rehearsed, but she had no idea what to expect from these meetings.

“So, Edelgard,” Byleth said, looking up from her folder, “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” Edelgard said cautiously.

“Can I trust Ferdinand to keep the other students in line?” Byleth asked. Maybe if she could endear herself to Edelgard it would help her open up.

Edelgard considered the question for a moment, staring out the window at the rain beyond. “You can trust that he will try,” she said with a sort of half smile, “Whether or not the other students listen is another matter entirely.”

“That’s pretty much what I expected,” Byleth laughed, turning back to Edelgard's application, “Now, you said on your application that you’re interested in studying martial combat, specifically heavy weapons and armor.”

“Yes,” Edelgard confirmed.

“Why's that?” 

“When I was younger I would often watch the royal guard practice in the palace’s training grounds,” she replied, “I always admired how fluid their movements were despite the weight of their armaments, but I felt that there was only so much my mentors in Enbarr could teach.”

“You wanted someone with real world experience,” Byleth concluded.

“Indeed. While I treasure what I learned in Enbarr, I wanted instruction that was not so mired in tradition,” Edelgard said.

“I think this will work out for both of us then.” 

Their discussion continued for quite a while. She went over the specific classes Edelgard would be taking and went on to ask if she had any passing interests she would like to explore while she was at Garreg Mach. After she failed to offer up any ideas, Byleth asked that she attend some of Hanneman’s weekend lectures on the nature and origins of black magic. Byleth explained that people with minds as sharp as Edelgard’s often had an aptitude for reason based magic, as the art was based purely on logic.

This explanation was, in all honesty, mostly lies. The real reason Byleth asked her to attend the seminars was to divide the focus of her studies. If she was too distracted by too many subjects to concentrate on any one it would likely lessen her ability to grow while she was at the Monastery. Perhaps this would make her easier to fight when it inevitably came to that, or at least Byleth hoped it would.

After about a half hour, Byleth let Edelgard go and asked that she retrieve Hubert from the training grounds. The remainder of her meetings went about as well as could be expected, and she managed to get a lesson plan written for every student by the time the rain let up. 

* * *

Byleth leisurely spun out of the way of Caspar’s haphazard sword swing. He had insisted on dueling her at some point once she had arrived at the training grounds and she didn’t want to disappoint him. 

As they dueled, Byleth noticed Professor Hanneman standing under the awning near the stairs, watching her intently. She assumed he would come find her eventually, he always did when she used her crest in the mock battle. Usually she found his requests somewhat annoying, but she had to admit she was cautiously curious about why using her crest felt so different yesterday.

Caspar raised the training sword in both hands and charged while she was distracted, but any advantage he gained from her absent mindedness was lost when he released a gutteral war cry. 

Before he could bring the sword down, she widened her grip on her axe and lunged forward, cracking him in the knuckles with the haft. He yelped in surprise, and she used her position to wedge the handle of her axe under the crossguard of his sword. With one swift upwards motion, she pulled the blade out of his hands and sent it tumbling away. She closed the remaining distance between them and hooked her left leg behind his. With a pull of her leg and a push of her axe, she knocked Caspar to the muddy floor of the training grounds.

“You’re strong, but you need to control yourself,” Byleth said, helping him to his feet, “Brute strength will only get you so far.”

“Apparently... That was a really smart move.” Caspar winced as he rubbed his knuckles.

“Thanks. We can practice it in our one on one lessons if you want,” She smiled, “I’m not exactly a master of axes but I can definitely give you some pointers.”

“Absolutely!” He grinned, “You’re a lot stronger than I thought you’d be, but I bet I’ll be able to beat you by the end of the year.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said calmly. She made a brief announcement to dismiss her students for the day and set off towards the stairs. Hanneman motioned for her to join him while she approached and she acquiesced. She noticed him furtively stash a journal and pen in his jacket while he thought she wasn’t looking. She was always curious about the things he wrote about her.

“Is there something I can help you with Hanneman?” She asked as she placed her training axe back on the rack. 

“It’s nothing major,” he smiled, “I merely wanted to ask if you had ever been tested to see whether or not you bear a Crest.”

“Nope,” she wiped the sweat from her brow, “My dad was a mercenary born to two commoners so it didn’t seem likely.”

“I suppose that is as good a reason as any,” he mused, “But if you have a moment, I’d like to conduct a few tests. If for no other reason than to satisfy my personal curiosity.”

Though she was hoping to deal with these tests after dinner, she shrugged and followed him out of the training grounds.

Hanneman’s office was remarkable in the way that it was simultaneously incredibly cluttered and incredibly organized. Sure there were numerous test tubes, thick books with tiny type, journals with hastily written notes, and arcane devices of indeterminate purpose scattered on just about every surface; but it somehow all looked as if it was there for a reason. Like that book had been specifically placed next to that almost comically oversized needle because they belonged together. Byleth’s favorite thing in the room was the human skull that sat forlornly on one of the many bookshelves. She had never seen Hanneman interact with it or even acknowledge its existence, and half wondered if he had purchased it because he felt a proper eccentric crest scholar’s office wasn’t complete without at least one skull.

As she reacquainted herself with the room, he retrieved the item he needed from its cabinet and returned to her. The bottle he presented to her was filled with a viscous red liquid that bore a strong resemblance to blood, though Byleth had never been brave enough to ask if that’s actually what it was. 

“I’d like you to take this bottle by the base. The liquid will react to your touch if you bear a crest,” he said calmly, “Also, please don’t drink it.”

She took it from his hand, hoping to get this first test over with quickly. He would move on to a different experiment when this one came back positive, and that was the one she was interested in.

But as she held the bottle in her hand, waiting for the liquid to condense and spark, she realized that nothing was happening. She stood there in horror, staring at the substance as it sloshed in her now shaking hand. She could hear Hanneman somewhere far away saying something about the result being unsurprising, and saw his hand reach for the bottle as if she was watching the scene unfold from far above them. He calmly took the it from her without any resistance, but as he noticed her expression a more concerned look crossed his face. Through the haze, a question finally reached her ears.

“Professor Byleth, are you alright?” He asked.

“I… I don’t know,” She mumbled. How could the test come back negative? It didn’t make any sense. She bore a crest. She knew that for a fact. She could draw on that crest’s power right now if she wanted to, right? She had done so yesterday...

“If you are disappointed by the results of the test, don’t be.” Hanneman said, carefully placing the bottle back in its cabinet, “Only about two percent of people born in Fodlan bear a Crest, and the vast majority of those individuals inherit them from their noble bloodlines.

“To be frank, It would be something of a fluke if you did bear a crest.” He continued as he took a seat behind his desk, “I wanted to test you because I noticed a strange visual phenomenon surrounding you yesterday during the mock battle, but I suppose it was just a trick of the-”

“Is there any other test you could run?” she asked urgently as her mind fully returned to her.

“Of course. There are many other tests I could run,” he replied in a slightly offended tone, “But given that the first one came back negative I don’t see a reason to run any more. The Saffiro flask has little to no margin of error.”

“I…” she faltered, choosing her next words carefully, “I have reason to believe that I bear some kind of crest.”

“Do you?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow, “What makes you believe that?”

Should she show him? He was the person most qualified to understand what was going on with her crest. But what if whatever he discovered was made public? She wanted this to be a relatively safe cycle in which she took only one major risk, and she didn’t need this kind of curveball thrown into things.

“If I show you I need you to swear that you won’t tell a soul,” she said gravely, her eyes locked with his.

“I’m not sure what concerns you so, but I suppose I will agree to that.”

She called on the power of her crest, freezing time for a second or two. In those suspended moments, she snatched an open book on his desk and held it next to her head. When time resumed, she saw his eyes widen in shock. 

“What... was that?” He asked, replacing the monocle that had fallen from his eye.

“That's what I want to know,” She lied, placing the book back on his desk, “That’s what I need you to figure out.”

“Was that a spell? Have you had any training in black magic?” He pressed.

“No, and not even a little.”

“Perhaps a Crest of Fraldarius…” Hanneman mused, standing from his desk and retrieving something from a high shelf, “That would explain the extreme speed… But that degree of speed is unlike any Crest of Fraldarius I’ve ever seen. Could it be a lost crest? All the surviving records indicate that the Crest of Aubin could cause visual distortions... that would certainly be something… But what would cause the Saffiro Flask to come back negative?

“This may seem an odd request, but would you be willing to let me take a few samples of your blood?” He asked, tapping the end of the syringe he pulled from its case, “I’ll contact you as soon as I’ve learned something.”

She presented her arm without a word and his eyes lit up. A few vials of blood and a delicately applied bandage later, she left his office feeling woozy, distressed, and more than a little hungry.

* * *

The rest of the month went by fairly uneventfully. To Byleth’s dismay, Hanneman never approached her with any information about her crest, and whenever she asked about it he always just said something along the lines of, “I’m working on it. You’re a fascinating case.”

Rhea called Byleth and Edelgard to her audience chamber several days after classes began to give them their first mission. As always, it consisted of purging Zanado of the bandits that Edelgard had hired to kill the two other house leaders. 

She had learned that particular fact during a cycle in which she experimentally chose to bring their leader, Kostas, in alive. After a mercifully brief interrogation, he revealed that a strange man in a long black robe and mask had paid him to assassinate two of the house leaders. After this information came out it didn’t take long for Byleth to convince Rhea and Seteth that Edelgard was behind the plot, forcing her to flee to Enbarr and causing the war to start earlier than usual. That cycle had gone reasonably well until a battalion Byleth was leading was ambushed by demonic beasts and she was slain. She tried the strategy a few more times, but it never really worked out.

She mulled this over as their cart ambled slowly down the muddy road toward Zanado. It took a little over a day to get there from the Monastery if one were moving at a fast pace, but the platoon of knights and overabundance of supplies they brought with them extended that travel to two days. Based on their surroundings, she estimated they had about four hours before they would have to abandon their wagons and begin approaching on foot. 

Her students had dressed for battle before they’d left camp, and she could tell that the anticipation of their first live combat was effecting them all in different ways. 

Edelgard and Hubert had elected to ride in the second cart that was dragging half a dozen yards or so behind the first, but she could read the immense boredom on their faces even from this distance. She knew for a fact that Edelgard had fought and killed before, and it would surprise her greatly if Hubert hadn’t already done the same. Caspar and Bernadetta sat across from them, and Beradetta seemed to be taking some comfort in Caspar’s excitement. Perhaps she hoped that she could just let him do all the work so she wouldn’t have to be in real danger.

She had had to seperate Caspar and Lindhardt before they left their camp. Lindhardt seemed distressingly morose this morning, and she got the sense that it wasn’t just the early wakeup call and Caspar’s constant loud discussion of the upcoming battle seemed to be getting to him. She decided it was best to keep them apart for now. Petra and Dorothea sat across from him, taking in the sights of the trip and conversing in a way that suggested that at least Dorothea was just trying to distract herself. Ferdinand had insisted on helping Byleth drive the cart, but it was clear to her that he was far better at riding horses than driving them.

“Do you have any qualms about our upcoming battle Byleth?” Ferdinand asked after a somewhat prolonged period of silence.

“Not really, you’ve all trained hard this past month. You’re as ready for this as you’ll ever be.” She said after a moment’s consideration, “Just remember that we’re not on the training grounds anymore. There are real consequences for failure here.”

“I’m sure we’ll all be fine,” Dorothea said nervously, reassuring herself more than anyone else, “They’re just some disorganized bandits right?”

“If they are not organized then they will be fighting with much... desperation,” Petra mused, “Like prey that has been cornered.”

“If that is the case then we will have to match their ferocity!” Ferdinand said confidently.

“Just make sure you remember what you’ve learned, and stay calm.” Byleth said, “Don’t let your emotions get the better of you during battle.”

“Are you positive that the knights will make sure we’re safe?” Dorothea asked after a moment.

“They'll do everything they can, but it’s better if you act like they aren’t there.” Byleth responded calmly, “They won’t always be around, so you shouldn't rely on them. But like I said, you’ve all trained hard. I know you’re ready.”

Dorothea’s expression made it clear that she didn’t fully agree, but didn’t voice any more concerns. The rest of the ride passed fairly uneventfully, and by the time the sun had passed its highest point they found themselves approaching the cliffs overlooking Zanado.

* * *

Byleth had never understood why Zanado was called the ‘Red Canyon’. She always assumed it was either a dodgy translation of some ancient text or a name that was simply no longer applicable. Perhaps the valley was filled with red flowers or the people who used to live there wore a lot of red or something.

She supposed that it was an appropriate name based on her experiences with the area, as this was the place where her students got blood on their hands for the first time. Even beyond this first battle all the time she spent here consisted of combat either against bandits or mutant beasts. But something had always stuck in the back of her mind while she was here, something that somehow seemed more prevalent now.

When she had come to Zanado in the very first cycle, a thought had occurred to her as they cleaned up the remnants of the bandits. _ I remember this being a peaceful place _… She didn’t know why she thought that, she had no connection to Zanado as far as she knew. There was some suggestion later that cycle that Sothis was connected to the area, but Sothis had disappeared before they could unravel that mystery. The thought had resurfaced in every subsequent cycle, though in truth it was more of a memory of a memory than anything else. 

But that thought wouldn’t leave her mind as she and her students fought through the canyon. There was a sort of underlying feeling of anticipation every time she turned a corner, and every time she did she felt pangs of disappointment when her expectations weren’t met. She didn’t know what she expected exactly, just that it weren’t what she was seeing. The distress filled her with an almost overwhelming sense of despair and she had to force herself to focus on the fight at hand rather than give in to this strange emotion.

As expected her students performed entirely satisfactorily, all contributing to the mission in their own little ways. She was immensely grateful to them for being competent enough not to get themselves killed at any point. She had been deliberately avoiding using her divine pulse since she discovered the changes in her crest, and was more than happy to put off using it until it was absolutely necessary.

The only instance where she feared she might have to use her power was a moment in which Ferdinand was knocked to the ground by Kostas and was seconds away from having his throat slit. Fortunately, an arrow in the shoulder from Bernadetta and a sword through the guts from Petra was enough to take the man out.

After they finished cleaning up the ruins Byleth insisted that they get a jump on the journey back to the Monastery. This was partly because she wanted to make good use of the daylight they had left, but was mostly because she wanted to get out of the canyon as quickly as possible. The discomfort she was feeling during the fight didn’t seem to dissipate at all as time went on and she was getting really sick of these strange, sourceless emotions. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing back at the ruins as the cart began to leisurely trot away from the canyon, and as she took in the details of the decrepit buildings and hazy air she felt tears start to well in her eyes.

She quickly turned back to the road ahead and wiped her eyes with her dirty sleeve, suddenly furious with herself for being unable to control her own emotions. Their travel for the rest of the day passed in slightly glum silence. The only students who seemed keen on discussing the events of the day were Ferdinand, Caspar, and Petra. The three elected to ride in the same wagon as Byleth so they could discuss their techniques during the battle and exchange compliments and pointers. Bernadetta chose to ride with them, but spent most of the time in a fairly dissociated state.

They set up camp with the knights right as the sun started to touch the horizon, and Byleth bid most of her students goodnight after they shared a quick meal of preserved meats and hard bread. 

She sat staring into the crackling fire as the camp drifted off into sleep around her. She was tired sure, but she didn’t have any allusions about getting a good night’s sleep while on the road. Her mind was still recovering from her time in Zanado. The sadness had lifted somewhat, but it was still there in the back of her mind.

“Byleth, are you alright?”

Edelgard’s voice took her by surprise as she looked away from the fire, momentarily blinding her when she tried to focus on the other woman. She was sitting a few feet to the right of Byleth and was regarding her with a slight concern. Byleth wasn’t sure how long she had been there.

“I’m fine,” Byleth lied, “Why do you ask?”

“You seemed… distracted the entire time we were in Zanado,” Edelgard said, “Do you have a history with the area?”

“No… I don’t think so,” Byleth said carefully, wondering if her strange mood was that obvious, “I might have passed through there with my dad when I was a kid though. I can’t remember.” 

“I don’t think I could ever forget a place like that,” Edelgard sighed, “The ruins there were so strange. I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”

“Are you interested in history?” Byleth asked.

“It’s something I like to read about in my spare time,” she replied, “As far as I know the structures in the canyon don’t match the architectural style from any period of the empire’s history. Or across all Fodlan for that matter.”

“Fodlan is full of strange ruins,” Byleth shrugged, turning her attention back to the fire, “You see them a lot when you’re trekking across the continent.”

“That is true, but none are as large or as complex as those in Zanado,” Edelgard stated, “Whatever civilization constructed them must have flourished and fallen in the distant past, their history completely lost to the ages. Who do you think lived there?”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Byleth said, “For all I know they were twelve foot tall talking wyverns made of solid platinum. It’s not like I had much time to study history while I was traveling with Jeralt.”

“I suppose that is understandable,” Edelgard said dejectedly. 

Byleth could see that Edelgard was still watching her out of the corner of her eye, and couldn’t decide whether or not that was a good thing. She looked almost ghostly in the flickering light from the fire, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than usual.

“But perhaps you’re right, we have no proof that they were even human.” Edelgard mused after a moment. “I wonder if their remnants still influence the world somehow…”

They sat there in silence for some time, listening to the crackling of the fire, the wind in the trees, and the occasional footfalls of the knights on watch. There was something vaguely surreal about the situation for Byleth. Her greatest enemy was sitting six or so feet away absentmindedly staring at the stars after making slightly awkward small-talk. Sure she had interacted amicably with Edelgard before the war many times, but never in a setting as intimate as this. 

“You should get some sleep,” Byleth said after a while, “We’re going to start breaking camp at dawn.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Edelgard sighed, “But you should attempt to get some rest as well.” She got to her feet and set off towards where Hubert lay still, her footsteps fading into the background before disappearing entirely. 

* * *

**Edelgard**

Edelgard and Byleth stood awkwardly in Rhea’s audience chamber on the morning they arrived back at the monastery. The room felt cold even with the rising sunlight streaming in through its floor to ceiling windows and Edelgard found herself shivering in her traveling clothes. She had known this meeting was coming since they set out on their mission, and was simultaneously annoyed and relieved that Byleth had insisted on reporting to Rhea as soon as they got back.

While she had not met with Rhea very often, all of her meetings thus far with Rhea had always started later than intended. It was more understandable for this particular meeting given the early hour, but Edelgard had a theory that Rhea liked to make people wait for her simply because she could.

As expected, Rhea’s footsteps began to echo through the chamber about ten minutes after they arrived. Edelgard glanced back to see her imposing form as she slowly made her way to her podium, taking note of how immaculately made up Rhea was even now. 

“Archbishop,” Byleth said somberly. She and Edelgard bowed deeply to Rhea.

“Professor Byleth, Edelgard,” Rhea smiled, “We did not expect you to return until this afternoon.”

“My apologies,” Byleth said sheepishly, “Our travel was mercifully brief and I wanted to report to you as soon as possible. I hope we didn’t interrupt your rest.”

“It is quite alright. I was already awake when you arrived,” Rhea assured her, “Now, please, tell me how your mission went.”

“The bandits have been dealt with, and any trace of them has been removed from Zanado. My students all performed admirably.” Byleth stated, “I have also adjusted their lesson plans based on some things I noticed during the battle.” 

“I see my faith in you was well placed,” Rhea’s smile widened, “Edelgard, do you have any thoughts you would like to share?”

Though Edelgard had a great many thoughts she would like to share with Rhea, the one she chose to share was, “No Archbishop, my Professor’s report was entirely accurate.”

“Excellent.” Rhea nodded, “You are dismissed Edelgard. Byleth, I wish to speak with you if you have a moment.”

“Of course Archbishop,” Byleth smiled. 

Edelgard bowed again and quickly made her way out of the room. She wasn’t really going to leave, not a chance. She couldn’t pass up an opportunity to listen to a private conversation between Rhea and her professor.

As she reached the hall, she started drifting slightly to the right. Once she knew they no longer had line of sight on her, she approached the wall next to the door and casually stood with her back to it. There was a guard between her and the doorway, but the echos from the room could be heard even from here.

“Byleth, I simply wanted to ask how your time in Zanado was?” Rhea’s said calmly. 

Byleth mumbled something noncommittal in response, though her words were too distorted by distance to make out.

“Did your father teach you much about the doctrine of our Church during your travels?” Rhea asked. 

As Byleth began to respond, Edelgard heard a much closer voice speak up. “Um... is there something you need Lady Edelgard?” She looked up to see the guard she was standing next to looking down to her somewhat nervously.

“Not at all, thank you,” Edelgard said quietly, “I merely wanted to speak with my Professor after she got out of her meeting with the Archbishop.”

The guard nodded and returned to blankly staring into the hallway. She would have to think of something to ask Byleth when she left, but that would come later. She needed to focus on the conversation in the other room. When her ears finally picked up their voices again, she heard Rhea begin to speak. 

“In ancient times, a goddess alighted upon the world in that very canyon. But for a goddess from the heavens, Zanado was only a temporary haven.”

“Why was it temporary?” Byleth asked.

“The Goddess could not stay in Fodlan forever, so she chose to use the time she had to bestow great blessings upon the world. But humanity misused those blessings, and a great war was fought using the weapons and crests she gifted to them,” Rhea said solemnly, “Though these things were meant to stem the flow of evil and bring order to Fodlan, they became tools of destruction, all because of the greed of humanity. When the goddess discovered this truth, she grieved, and hid herself in the heavens from whence she came.”

“I had no idea,” Byleth muttered at an almost inaudible volume.

“I see... During your time here, I pray that you come to devote yourself to the teachings of Seiros. It is by no means required, but they may help you find peace.”

“I'll make sure to stop by the library and pick up the Book of Seiros before I leave today, and I appreciate the personal lesson.” Byleth said, though her voice betrayed her disinterest.

“It was no trouble. Please remember that my door is always open to you.”

While Edelgard waited for them to begin speaking again, footsteps began to echo through the room. She braced herself for her professor’s exit, but to her surprise she heard a new voice.

“Archbishop, I am sorry to interrupt, but there is something I must ask you and our Professor about.” Seteth said somberly from somewhere within the audience chamber, “It concerns the bandits her class fought in Zanado.”

“No apology necessary,” Rhea said, “Shall we move to the office?” 

“I think that would be best.” Seteth replied.

Edelgard heard the sounds of footsteps headed towards the office, and though she desperately wanted continue to eavesdrop, she knew it wasn’t an option.

She stood by the door for another few minutes, unsure if she should continue to wait for Byleth or try to make an excuse and leave. After a particularly long few moments, the guard glanced back into the now empty audience chamber.

“Lady Edelgard, I believe your professor’s meeting with the Archbishop will not be over any time soon.” He said as he turned back to her.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Edelgard sighed. She wanted the sigh to sound irritated, and hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious. “I suppose I will have to speak with her some other time.”

“Would you like me to deliver a message to her when she passes this way?” The guard asked.

“That won’t be necessary, the matter I wished to discuss was not urgent.” Edelgard smiled, “But I appreciate the thought.”

She gave a small bow and headed towards the stairs. She didn’t know what to think after listening to that particular conversation. 

As she made her way through the grounds, she finally realized what it was about Rhea’s words that had stuck out to her. Though it disgusted her, she had to admit that Rhea's tone had been similar to Edelgard’s own when she had tried to elicit a reaction from Byleth two nights prior. Rhea was testing Byleth.

But why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine is as good a time as any to update I suppose. I've been agonizing over this for a while, but I need to get it out so I can work on the next chapter. The pace should be faster now that a lot of established stuff is out of the way, but who knows.


	7. Memories in the Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth dreams of hunting and confronts her father about it. Edelgard persuades her professor to allow a student to accompany them on their mission for the month. The Black Eagles see the true face of war.

**??? Moon, ???  
** **Byleth**

The River had always been there. 

Truthfully, Byleth had no idea what The River was, but despite what everyone told her, she knew it was real. It was hard to describe to someone who wasn’t able to sense it, but The River was like a sort of… flow… maybe a pull... all around her. It didn’t move in any particular direction, and it never sped up or slowed down, it simply moved inexorably onward. In her rare idle moments, she liked to just sit back and feel it’s presence, taking a strange sort of comfort in its unchanging nature.

Though she didn’t focus on The River often, she was aware of it at all times. Even now as she crept through the thick layer of freshly fallen snow, she felt it somewhere in the back of her mind. 

The forest around her had been consumed by the haunting quiet of a heavy snowfall, and the only sounds she could detect were occasional snatches of birdsong and the gentle clicking of the wind through the barren branches. In this profound quiet, she felt as if each of her footsteps was as loud as an avalanche. 

Something caught her eye as she pushed aside the bare branches of a thick bush. There were small, shapeless impressions in the snow, perhaps the remnants of tracks. She bent down to get a closer look, tracing the path the prints created with her gaze. 

She gently pushed the bush aside and stepped into the clearing, adding another set of prints to the fresh snow as she stalked her prey. She could hear her partner somewhere behind her loudly tromping through the forest. She wanted to call him out, to berate him for his sloppy technique, but she knew he would use his greater breadth of experience to excuse himself. It was one of the many things about him that drove her crazy. Sure, he could take out any animal as long as he got the drop on it, but he scared away far more prey than he actually caught.

The forest grew more densely as they advanced, the tree branches intertwining overhead to block out the faint sunlight that tried feebly to filter through them. The snow was lighter here, and the prints were fresher. They were close.

Byleth’s eye caught motion as she peaked past a thick oak tree. Their quarry was up ahead, calmly eating the last few berries off of a holly bush. It was a relatively small pale brown doe, though she could tell just by looking at it that the animal was well fed. 

She felt hesitation begin to creep into her mind as she slowly drew her bow. She had never killed anything before, and was scared she would only injure the creature if her arrow didn’t find it’s mark. Unfortunately, her moment’s hesitation allowed time for her partner’s carelessly placed steps to break another fallen branch. The deer’s head snapped up, its eyes locking with Byleth’s as it prepared to bolt. She fumbled an arrow out of her quiver, but she knew it was too little too late.

_ Stop The River. _

She didn’t know where the thought came from. Some deep, buried part of her mind offered it up to her in her panic. What occurred to her in hindsight was that the question of how to stop The River was not an issue. She knew exactly how to stop it. Of course she did. It had always been a possibility. But emotionally she felt as if it was the one constant in her life, and trying to affect it seemed… wrong. She didn’t want to lose this chance however, as the deer was the only prey they had seen all day. 

As the animal turned to flee, Byleth reached out towards The River with her mind, feeling it resist her intrusion with the blunt, inexorable force of a glacier. Though the effort caused dull pain to pound through her head, she eventually managed to break through its defenses and forced The River to stop.

And as The River stopped, everything did. Everything except for her.

She stood stock still, stunned for a moment that existed only for her and suddenly numb to the pain that her exertion created. The deer hung in midair, it’s frightened expression frozen on its face. The snow kicked up by its hooves was suspended in spirals around its legs, almost as if the creature had taken off and was going to fly away as soon as things resumed.

What struck Byleth the most out of the many disturbing sensations she was currently experiencing was the oppressive, crushing silence. Now even the muted ambience of the forest had disappeared and the only sound that reached her ears was that of her own breathing.

But the longer she stayed stuck in the moment, the more strain it put on her. While her mind reeled, her body cried out in pain, and she only became aware of it when it became impossible to ignore. 

She shakily drew her bow, determined to make this extra time count. She tried to breathe steadily as she took aim, but her arms refused to cooperate and opted instead to start to shake uncontrollably. They were not the only thing giving out on her however, and she felt her grip on The River begin to loosen. As it wrestled control back and her vision went black, she released the arrow, hoping against hope that it found its mark.

* * *

**Garland Moon, 1181  
** **Byleth**

“Like I said, I don’t remember the first time you went hunting,” Jeralt sighed as his eyes scanned the spines of the books in his library, “Do you know who you were with?”

“I have no idea,” Byleth groaned, slumping further into Jeralt’s plush office chair, “I feel like I knew him, but whenever I try to focus on him my brain won’t reveal anything to me.”

“And you’re sure this wasn’t just a dream?” He pressed, removing a thick crimson tome from the shelf.

“It was too… vivid,” Byleth mumbled, “Too… coherent to be just a dream. It definitely felt like a memory.”

“Up,” Jeralt said to a now almost horizontal Byleth who reluctantly moved to one of the far more uncomfortable seats on the other side of the desk, “You didn’t give me much to work with so there’s only so much I can tell you...”

“I know,” Byleth grumbled, “I just needed to talk to someone about this and… you know.”

“I do,” he chuckled, turning his attention to the battle map on his desk. After a moment’s consideration, he spoke again, “Did you recognize any landmarks?”

“No, we were in a pretty dense forest the whole time. I could barely see the sky,” Byleth said as she attempted to get comfortable in the chair. 

“Maybe if its a recurring dream you could get more details from it next time,” Jeralt offered.

“Maybe… I don’t know if I’d be able to change anything. I wasn’t really in control,” she said morosely, noting the positions of the markers on the board he had set up, “It’s weird, certain aspects of the dream are crystal clear in my memory, but trying to remember anything else is like trying to see through a thick fog.”

Jeralt raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t that how most dreams are?”

“I guess…”

Jeralt toyed with various battalions while cross referencing the book he had taken down from the shelf for some time. Byleth merely reveled in the chance to enjoy the relative calm and the indirect afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. This was not the first time she had come here to discuss things to Jeralt, and she reveled in her ability to be herself for a few minutes.

“Any advice on this?” Jeralt asked, motioning to the board.

“Lonato?” Byleth replied, eliciting a curt nod from Jeralt, “Not really. I’ve never seen the main battles. Rhea is going to send my class to ‘deal with the aftermath’, which will turn into us getting ambushed by Lonato and some of his troops.”

“Oh?” he said as concern crossed his face.

“It’s fine, I’ve never had any issues with the battle,” Byleth assured him, “My class is more than ready for it. Well, ready for it physically at least.” 

“How are your brats by the way?” Jeralt asked as he turned his attention back to the board, “I know you weren’t exactly enthusiastic about teaching them.”

“They’re fine… I mean, besides Edelgard and Hubert they’re all good people… But I knew that before I chose their class.” Byleth sighed, averting her gaze, “I feel like I’m starting to understand how I could pull them away from Edelgard, but I still have a hard time forgetting about all the other cycles. It’s like there’s something in the back of my mind that’s stopping me from thinking of them as anything but enemies.”

“I understand what you’re saying… But you need to remember that they don’t think of you as an enemy. Learn what you can while you have this chance. What ever happened in the past-” He paused, “Whatever happens in the future? We can deal with that later.”

“I’ll try… But I can’t promise anything.” Byleth grumbled, “I’ve got over a hundred years of memories taking up space in my head.”

As she tried to distract herself by reading the titles of the books on her father’s shelf, Jeralt reached into a drawer under his desk and withdrew a new bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He tipped the bottle towards her, but she swiftly put up her hands to shun the gesture.

“Hell no, not that again,” Byleth said forcefully, “The hangover I got from that was literally a fate worse than death.”

“You get used to it. But suit yourself,” Jeralt laughed. He put the glasses away and took a gulp straight from the bottle.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Byleth said, “I can’t remember, did I tell you what Rhea said at the end of the last cycle?”

Jeralt’s brow furrowed as he attempted to recall the end of Byleth’s story. “I think you said something about… Al-All-Ellie-Elle?”

“Ailell,” Byleth groaned as a smirk crossed her father’s lips, “Rhea said something about saving us… saving someone at Ailell.”

“And..?”

“And I want to go there to investigate.” Byleth confessed.

Jeralt sighed heavily, “And I suppose you want me to join you…”

“That would be nice. It’s not like I can ask anyone else,” Byleth smiled innocently.

“That’s would take a lot of coordination…” Jeralt said flatly, “Rhea isn’t going to be happy about her knight captain and one of her professors leaving Garreg Mach for a few days so they can go on a leisure trip to a forsaken valley.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” Byleth insisted, “We can just tell her we have some loose ends to tie up with your company.” 

Jeralt stared her down for several uncomfortable seconds before letting out a low chuckle. “I suppose I did spend twenty-one years lying to Rhea. What’s one more…”

“Yes! Thank you!” Byleth grinned as she stood from her chair, walking quickly around his desk to wrap him in a bear hug.

“Yeah yeah…” Jeralt grunted warmly as she pulled away, “We can talk about the details later. What have you eaten today?”

The longer Byleth considered the question, the more concerned her father became. “Two large cups of coffee and a pastry from the dining hall…” She said guiltily.

“Come on kid…” Jeralt sighed, snapping the thick tome shut and standing from his desk, “Let’s get you some dinner. I need a break from this shit anyway.”

* * *

**Edelgard**

Though she tried desperately to, Edelgard couldn’t decide if Hubert’s lack of salient information about their professor was a good or a bad thing. Despite his vigilant observation over the past two months, he had thus far been incapable of reporting anything suspicious. The strangest thing she could think of was the fact that Byleth frequently visited her father’s office, but even that seemed like it was hardly worth noting.

On one hand, her apparent innocence was good because it meant that it may be possible to sway Byleth’s loyalties before the war broke out. Edelgard had only become more impressed with her professor’s abilities since they had met, and it seemed that no matter what weapons they sparred with, Byleth always managed to defeat her. On top of that, her tactics in the mock battles were brilliant, and the other two houses hadn’t even come close to victory yet. If she was honest, it was hard to believe her professor had developed such skills in such a short life.

On the other hand, she feared that all of Byleth’s words and actions were carefully chosen to convince Edelgard and her retainer that they should trust her. Now that they had settled safely into the monastery, she and Hubert had begun to implement parts of their plan; And though they had been extremely careful, Edelgard couldn’t stop herself from worrying that her professor was destroying everything she was trying to build behind her back.

Regardless, Edelgard was interested to see Byleth’s attitude during their next mission. She was a bit unnerved to learn that Rhea wanted them to intervene in Lord Lonato’s rebellion, but thankful that it gave her the chance to gauge Byleth's zealotry for herself. 

A week before they were scheduled to depart on their mission, Edelgard and Byleth stepped out of the Black Eagles classroom and into the last refuge from the pouring rain. Edelgard had lingered after the morning lecture to finish the book they were asked to read by next week, and now deeply regretted not leaving earlier. She grimaced at the sky as she peaked out from under the overhang. She was rather jealous of the heavy travelling cloak that her professor had slung over her shoulders, and dearly wished that she could have had such foresight.

“The rain probably won’t last much longer,” Byleth offered as she noticed Edelgard’s annoyance, “Feel free to stay in the classroom until it lets up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Edelgard assured her, “I have things I need to take care of today and I can’t let an unexpected thunderstorm get in the way of them.”

“Hmm?” Byleth murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Professor Hanneman’s lessons have been… interesting, but I still find myself struggling with some aspects of black magic. I’d like to do some private research before our next session.” Edelgard said as she peered up at the dark sky.

“Do you want to transfer out of those classes? I know you were skeptical about them.” Byleth asked, “We could have you start taking horseback riding, or potentially flying lessons if you’d like.”

“No, I’ll continue to attend them for now,” Edelgard said hastily, not willing to admit defeat on this front just yet, “Like I said, they are interesting, I-”

“Um, Professor Byleth?” The voice that interrupted Edelgard was unexpected, and it was only in that moment that she noticed the somewhat meek looking boy standing on the other side of her professor. As she locked eyes with him, annoyance clear on her face, his eyes widened and he bowed awkwardly, “Oh! Sorry Lady Edelgard…”

“It’s alright,” Edelgard sighed, looking back to Byleth.

“What do you need Ashe?” Byleth asked with a smile as she turned to face him.

“Oh I… I didn’t know you knew my name…” Ashe mumbled, “Anyway, sorry, um… I know this is very last minute, but I was hoping I could accompany your class on your mission this month.”

Byleth’s face fell as she took in the desperation on Ashe’s face. Though Edelgard had never personally interacted with him, she had heard many of the rumors that had been circling around Garreg Mach. Some said that Ashe had been sent to infiltrate the monastery as a student and report classified information back to his adoptive father prior to his attack. Others claimed that he had chosen to attend Garreg Mach after learning of Lord Lonato’s plans, and sought to find a way to devote himself to the church and fight against his lord. Still others say that he had been sent to the church by Lord Lonato so he would be spared the horrors of conflict that the rebellion would bring down on the people of the Castle Gaspard. No matter what the situation was, it was plain to see that Ashe had been struggling in the past month, and the look in his bloodshot eyes was almost manic. 

“If I understand your history with Lonato correctly, I’m not sure that’s a good idea… he’s not the only one involved in this.” Byleth said carefully as she put a gentle hand on his shoulder, “A lot of the people in his militia are from your hometown. People you know. And even though we probably won’t be doing any fighting, we can’t discount the possibility of being ambushed.”

“I know that… And I… I don’t want to fight any of them,” Ashe pleaded, “But I know them and… I don’t know. Maybe I could convince them to lay down their weapons…”

“We already tried talking to them and they refused to listen,” Byleth said softly, “The Church has tried to limit the number of civilian casualties, but we can’t just let Lonato’s troops rampage across the Kingdom.”

“I… Please,” Ashe stumbled, “At least let me come so I can make sure my brother and sister are okay.”

“I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you, but I don’t want to put you or your loved ones in danger.” Byleth said, “I can deliver a message to your siblings if you want.”

Before Ashe could protest, Edelgard raised her voice, “Byleth, I think having Ashe accompany us on our mission would be an excellent idea if we the church truly wishes to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Oh?” Byleth’s frowned as Ashe turned to look at Edelgard in surprise.

“If he is personally acquainted with some of the knights in Castle Gaspard, it may be possible for him to convince them to surrender. And if a knight surrenders, the militia following them will likely follow suit.” Edelgard explained, “I am aware that the Church has already attempted this, but given that they are one of the parties involved in the conflict it seems unlikely that their foes would listen. The Church is threatening them, Ashe would be negotiating with them.”

“I suppose…” Byleth said slowly.

“Additionally, as someone who was raised in Lord Lonato’s territory, Ashe is likely more familiar with the landscape than most.” Edelgard continued as Ashe nodded in agreement, “If we want foreknowledge of areas where ambushes may lie in wait, it would help to have someone with us who knew the most frequently stalked areas.”

Byleth sighed as she rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, “I get what you’re saying but…” She began, though she seemed to be struggling to find words. “I just… Ugh… Ashe, can I trust you to stay out of things unless we absolutely need you?”

“Yes! Of course!” Ashe said quickly, “I’ll do anything you need me to!” 

“Then… I guess you can come with us,” Byleth relented.

“Thank you Professor Byleth,” Ashe bowed deeply, “I swear I won’t let you down.”

“Let Seteth and Manuela know you’ll be coming on our mission this month.” Byleth said as she turned to walk away, “Make sure I get the proper approval forms before the end of the week.”

“Yes, absolutely!” Ashe called after her, his eyes darting around as if he hoped to see the two other staff members standing under the balcony with them. As a flicker of calm appeared over him, he turned to face Edelgard.

“Erm… I… Thank you, Lady Edelgard,” He said, giving another deep bow, “I don’t think I could have convinced her on my own.”

“Having you accompany us is the correct strategic choice.” Edelgard shrugged, “I simply wanted to ensure that we were able to perform our mission to the best of our abilities.”

“Oh, well… Thank you anyway,” He said quietly. He turned towards the archway that lead out into the rain and put his hood up before darting out into the downpour, leaving Edelgard alone in the cold afternoon air. She sighed heavily and set out into the rain. She could feel unspecific, yet somehow still unwelcome thoughts beginning to churn in her mind, and she needed to bury herself in her studies before she became overwhelmed by them.

* * *

**Byleth**

Byleth had hoped to avoid Ashe’s presence in her classes’s mission for this month, but it seemed that fate had other plans. She made a mental note to attempt to run into him when Edelgard wasn’t around if she tried this cycle again.

Despite knowing that she had the authority to shut down the students’ requests, she also knew that doing so would probably be a bad idea. She wanted to stay on Edelgard’s good side after all, and she knew that Ashe would be deeply emotionally scarred by this month regardless of whether or not she brought him to the battle. 

It wasn’t that she disliked Ashe, quite the opposite. He was a kind, intelligent, and skilled young man, but his current emotional state made him vulnerable. He had a nasty habit of letting himself get killed in this mission. On top of that, she was a little nervous about how he would interact with the Black Eagles. She knew that he occasionally developed friendships with Caspar and Petra later in the year, but she had never seen him interact with the class as a whole. 

A week after she spoke to the two outside of her classroom the Black Eagles set out on their mission for the month. Castle Gaspard was a little over three days travel from Garreg Mach, meaning that the majority of the last week of the month would be spent on the road. During this time she had to use some strange techniques to deliver lectures and all of her personal meetings were far more conceptual, but she had gotten used to teaching on the road a long time ago.

Her classes’s general demeanor was slightly more somber than it had been during the Harpstring Moon. Despite this, the students still spent most of the journey chatting away in the back of the carts, the topic of conversation always a thousand miles away from the current situation. They had all heard different and sometimes conflicting things about the nature of Lonato’s rebellion, and were a little unclear on what exactly their mission for the month was. Not that Byleth could blame them for that. Rhea often said that the purpose of this mission was to teach the students about the consequences of opposing the Church, which was more than a bit concerning.

The usual fog rolled in about an hour or so before sunset on their third day of travel. Unfortunately for her foes, Byleth had gotten into the habit of making sure to hand out torches to most of her class and to several of the knights that accompanied them beforehand. As such, the cover Lonato’s army had relied on thus far in battle was of little use, and their forces were caught unawares when Byleth slew the mage that was holding the fog in place.

Once the mist lifted, Byleth and her students made short work of the enemy militia with the help of Catherine and her battalion. Despite their efficiency however, it was plain to see that her students were struggling now that they knew they were facing militia instead of simple bandits. Many attempted to avoid conflict as much as possible while others begged their enemies to surrender even while their foes were bearing down on them with weapons drawn. Though a handful were convinced to drop their arms, her students had to slay many more in self defense.

Lonato emerged from the back lines as soon as he caught a glimpse of Thunderbrand’s brilliant glow. When his cavalry began to charge across the open field towards Catherine’s position, Byleth rallied her students back to her. When they moved in to intercept Lonato, he showed no mercy and attacked them on sight. And though Ashe’s begged him to surrender, they were forced to end the life of the manic and exhausted lord.

With the rebellion finally ended, her class was able to retreat to a small wood on the side of the road and set up camp. The chatter amongst her students was gone now, replaced with an overwhelming silence that ate away at Byleth. 

Eventually, all of the students found their way to the fire after the other tasks were taking care of, all holding barely touched meals in their hands. The sky was choked by clouds tonight, and the flickering flames of the campfires were the only lights in the darkness. Like little pockets of reality struggling to continue to exist within a sea of nothingness.

Dorothea and Bernadetta had taken it upon themselves to attempt to console Ashe, who had slipped into an almost completely unresponsive depression since Lonato’s death. Caspar and Ferdinand sat across from them, empty eyes reflecting the dancing flames while they said nothing. Edelgard and Petra were having a hushed discussion of some sort while Hubert stood in the darkness behind the princess, his cold eyes glittering in the night. Lindhardt simply sat with his head in his hands, so still you might mistake him for a statue.

There were many aspects of Byleth’s existence that she had refined down to a science. How to react to certain questions, what information to keep to herself and what to reveal, and who could and could not be trusted were all things she knew by heart. But this night, after her students saw the true face of war for the first time, this was something she had never been able to get exactly right. Every cycle she felt like she should say something, but her thoughts were always far too chaotic to put into coherent words.

Despite this, she always felt as if she had to try.

She approached the fire, making sure to be fully visible to the gathered crowd. Some glanced up at her as she arrived, but none offered any sort of greeting.

“I’d like to say a few words if you’ll listen,” She said after clearing her throat. Her student’s eyes turned to her one by one, each more hollow and tired than the last.

“I know today was… difficult. Even after all the battles I’ve fought I still remember the first time I saw regret in someone’s eyes as I cut them down.” Byleth said quietly, “Commoners in Fodlan are taught that following their lord without question is the most noble thing they can do. They are taught loyalty that borders on zealotry, and only really understand the consequences of that when they’re on death’s door.

“In turn, many nobles are taught to treat those below them as a resource instead of as living, breathing humans. Using them the same way you’d use lumber or stone.” She continued, “They’ll throw away the lives of countless innocents for their ideals or for personal gain.

“I know many of you are going to inherit noble titles at some point in the future, so if you remember nothing else from your time at the Officer’s Academy, remember that the people in your territories are just that. People. With families, dreams, and struggles that you couldn’t possibly understand. Treat them like it. For the rest of you, please remember that your life is your own. You aren’t obligated to die for someone else’s ideals. Don’t throw it all away for the sake of a leader who thinks of you as disposable.” 

There was an extended period of silence after she finished speaking. Her students had chosen to pay attention to her, but their expressions had not changed. She wondered if she said something that offended them.

“Is that supposed to make us feel better?” It was Caspar’s voice that rose first with an anger that she was not expecting, “We had to kill innocent civilians and you’re telling us ‘That’s how the world is, be better’?”

“That’s all we can do,” Byleth said quickly, “All of you can make a difference. Many of you are connected to people in power, and will be in power yourselves some day. Use that.”

“What if we don’t want to be in power? I never asked to be born an heir?” Lindhardt asked desperately, his head still cradled in his hands, “I don’t want that responsibility… I can’t…”

Before Byleth could respond, Ferdinand spoke up, “No one asks to be born into a noble house, that is simply up to fate. But as a noble it is your duty to watch over the citizens of your territory and to do whatever you can to improve their lives.”

“If that’s really your ‘duty’ than you nobles should start acting like it,” Dorothea snapped, her eyes burning with firelight and rage, “At best you’re living in decadence while your citizens starve and at worst you’re all dragging innocent people into your personal grudges.”

“Not all nobles are like that…” Ferdinand said weakly, “I will admit that there are some who are… less morally upstanding than others, but we are not universally villainous.”

“Get off your fucking high horse Ferdie,” Dorothea jabbed, “You know the truth about your family and your class. Accept it already.”

“Its thanks to people like my father that you weren’t slaughtered by invaders from Dagda!” Caspar butted in, “I know there are some shitty people in power, but not every noble drags their citizens into pointless wars!”

“Okay, please settle down everyone,” Byleth said, desperately attempting to keep her voice calm, “This kind of thing is challenging and we’re all exhausted after the battle. I think we should get some sleep so we can clear our minds and be ready for the journey back.”

“They don’t have to drag their people into wars to be bad,” Bernadetta said softly after a moment, her eyes distant and unfocused, “My father was… is a terrible man, even if he’s never declared war on anyone.”

“Which is why we have to be better as our professor says!” Ferdinand declared, “We can be the change we wish to see in the world!”

“You say that now, but you’ll be exactly like your father in twenty years,” Dorothea scoffed, “You’ll throw your subject’s lives away just like Lonato di-”

“Lonato isn’t a bad person!” Ashe screamed. His voice carried more anger than Byleth had ever heard from him before, and the expression in his eyes was one of pure torment, “He… He cared about everyone in Castle Gaspard… and everyone in the town too. He knew all of the castle staff by name and always made sure that… that they were well cared for. He took me and my siblings in when we had nothing and gave us a home. We would go out into the town all the time to check on the merchants and the farmers to make sure they were getting by alright… 

“I just… I don’t understand why he would do this… It doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t… I knew he was angry with the Church because of what happened to Christophe… But I… I didn’t think it would come to this…” His voice trailed off as the anger within him gave way to misery.

After that outburst, it seemed that none of her students wanted to attempt to approach the subject again. They sat for some time without speaking, all staring into the darkness or focusing on the dancing flame of the campfire.

“I feel we may have missed part of our Professor’s point,” It was Edelgard that broke the silence, her voice calm despite the animosity in the air, “Though I believe she has not given enough credit to the commoners.” 

“How so?” Byleth asked, trying to keep the annoyance she felt out of her voice. She was already upset that her speech had caused such a heated argument, and didn’t know if she could handle being talked down to by Edelgard right now.

“While it is true that many commoners in Fodlan are taught to remain loyal to their lords even in the most extreme circumstances, they are not mindless drones. Many choose to remain loyal simply because their lords have earned their loyalty.” Edelgard said, “The commoners we fought today chose to follow Lord Lonato because they believed that they were fighting for a just cause. It would be disrespectful to consider them victims when they died fighting for what they believed in.” 

“It doesn’t matter what they died for, they still died! And we still killed them!” Caspar shouted, “Now they’ll never see their families or friends again and it’s because of us!”

“And they were aware that death was a possibility when they chose to follow Lord Lonato.” Edelgard stated, “As we were aware that failure today would lead to our deaths and the deaths of those in the path of Lord Lonato’s forces. Our foes understood that a death in service of the greater good is not a death in vain.”

“How can you say their deaths were in service of the greater good?” Ferdinand demanded, “Lord Lonato’s rebellion only served to sow conflict and disunity within the Kingdom!”

“From your perspective it did, but how do you know that we are fighting for the greater good?” Edelgard sighed, “While there are commonalities between peoples’ definitions of that concept, very rarely is one side objectively right or wrong in war. I’m sure Lord Lonato’s troops believed they were fighting for the greater good just as we did.”

Ferdinand opened his mouth to object, but no words came to him. The rest of the camp remained silent, too burnt out to continue to bicker.

“It’s time for you all to get some rest,” Byleth said firmly, deciding it was time to exercise her authority as their professor, “You all need time to process what happened today, and this kind of fighting isn’t helping anyone. If anyone says another word about this tonight I’ll have you mucking out the stables for the next month. Have I made myself clear?”

With that threat on the table, the students set off towards their bedrolls without another word until it was just Byleth standing by the flickering campfire. 

She couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of obnoxious self righteousness that would permit Edelgard to make her argument in good conscience. To think that she would claim that commoners followed their lords willingly into battle when Byleth had seen her drag countless legions of her own subjects to pointless deaths. Was she truly so blind to her own tyranny, or was she just a hypocrite? 

And did she really believe that she was fighting for the 'greater good' by declaring a brutal all out war on the Church? As far as Byleth knew Edelgard's justification for the conflict was solely motivated by a desire to reunite the Empire, but surely if the Empire wished to reunite, it would. Given that it hadn't, it seemed safe to assume that forcing it to was ultimately a bad idea, and would only lead to more conflict in the future. Byleth had been told in the past that part of Edelgard's conflict was based on her desire to restructure Fodlan's system of nobility, but she always assumed that Edelgard merely wanted to replace the current corrupt ministers with corrupt ministers that she could control.

She sat down in front of the dwindling fire and shook her head. This was too much to process right now, and she knew that she was not in the right head space to be reasonable. Byleth snuffed out the last few embers before curling up under a thick pine, hoping that sleep would find her swiftly tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I was having a hard time with this chapter because my writing is generally more lighthearted, but I've always though the scene after The Magdred Ambush deserved more attention. I'm also just very paranoid of writing out of character lines.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Reclamation at the Rite of Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth learns more than she bargains for when she and her father travel to Ailell, and her reunion with the Sword of the Creator doesn't go the way she expects. Edelgard meets with It.

**Blue Sea Moon, 1181  
** **Byleth**

Morbid as it was, Byleth always looked forward to getting the Sword of the Creator back. She had spent so long using it that not having it felt like having to fight with one hand tied behind her back. This, coupled with the fact that she had to avoid using divine magic until she found a 'tutor' made her feel as if she was fighting with her other hand tied behind her back. That said, she had at least a decade worth of experience in fighting exclusively with her metaphorical legs.

What she wasn’t looking forward to was exploring Ailell without the blade with her. After discussing the details with her father, they both came to the conclusion that the only chance they would have to search the valley was right after she got back from her trip to Castle Gaspard. And though this was less than ideal, she didn’t want to lose the opportunity.

While Rhea was a bit uncertain about the idea at first, Jeralt was eventually able to convince her by pointing out that he was taken away from his band very suddenly, and he wanted to make sure they were all still alive. Of course, all of this was lies, but like Byleth he had become quite adept at lying in his 100 plus years of life. In the meantime, Alois would take command of the knights and Byleth’s students would be split up into the other two classes.

Rhea’s discomfort with their departure encouraged her to allow them to take a pair of wyverns to use as mounts. Ailell was several days of rocky travel from the Monastery on horseback, but the wyverns could get them there in just over eight hours. They eventually settled on flying out on Saturday afternoon, searching the valley during the day on Sunday, and heading back on Monday morning.

Sore and tired from travel, the two touched down thirty or so feet from the first major dip into Ailell. Even from here Byleth could feel the searing heat of the valley pouring in waves from the cliff edge, and though she was not normally a fan of excessive warmth, she relished it after a long day of cold northward flight.

Jeralt removed his mask while avoiding eye contact with his wyvern which was currently looking over its shoulder at him. He pulled a thick strip of dried meat out of his bag and tossed it up as high as he could. The beast’s neck snapped up and it downed the snack in one fell swoop before turning to Jeralt expectantly. Jeralt shook his head and barked a command at both of the wyverns, whereupon they leapt from the dry soil and wound their way into the night sky, pelting Byleth and her father with chilly night air as they did. 

She and Jeralt set up their bedrolls at the edge of the treeline. Jeralt’s facing the woods and Byleth’s facing the canyon, just to be safe. They shared a small meal of hardtack and jerky before laying down for the night. Jeralt started to snore the moment his head hit the hard ground, but as usual sleep evaded Byleth. Unusually however, it was not due to her memories.

Calling Ailell as beautiful would probably be a bit inappropriate, especially to devout members of the Church. But the rivers of shimmering lava, the occasional brilliant torrents of flame, and the twisted shadows of ancient fossilized trees gave it a sort of abstract, hellish beauty.

But something about Ailell seemed… wrong, not that she understood what was bothering her. Granted the valley was a blasted hellscape, but there was something else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She sighed in irritation as she turned her attention to the faint stars above, hoping desperately that she could find at least a few answers tomorrow and not just more questions.

* * *

Byleth prodded a glowing stone with her foot before settling her weight on it. She and her father had begun their exploration early in the morning and had reached the deepest point in the canyon around noon. Now, Ailell’s two jagged sides stretched menacingly up around them like the maw of an ageless demonic god, ready to shut and swallow them at any moment. Worse yet, Byleth was drenched in sweat even with the ward she had cast on her and her father before they had left.

“Do you have any idea what we’re actually looking for?” Jeralt grunted as they methodically traversed a perilous looking stretch of rock.

“Uh…”

“So… no,” Jeralt sighed.

“I was going to say sort of! There has to be something here.” Byleth said defensively, “Why would Rhea mention it unless it was relevant?” 

They took a break on the other side of the bridge to catch their breath, though the choking heat did its best to stop them. Byleth took the chance to climb up to a vantage point, pulling herself onto one of the fossilized trees. 

While Ailell’s scenery was initially impressive, it lost its luster fairly quickly once you were actually inside the canyon. It’s hard to appreciate aesthetics of a place when you constantly felt like you’re being boiled alive. More to the point, because the whole valley was rivers of lava, perilous rock formations, and long dead foliage, it got very samey very fast. Her eyes scanned the valley floor around them, trying desperately to find anything out of place. To her dismay, it was fully consistent with everything they had seen thus far. 

She moved her gaze to the gently sloping cliff faces that ended with sharp, jagged spires of rock that clawed at the sky above at the edges of the canyon. For the most part, they appeared to be simple mirrors of the opposite side.

But something stuck out at her about halfway up the incline. There was a dip in the rocks over which flowed a slowly dripping lava flow, but beyond which was a wide, dark cave that she couldn’t see the end of. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the first thing that had stuck out to her so far.

She climbed down from her perch and made her way over to the rock where her father was sitting. 

“Find anything?” He asked hopefully.

“Maybe,” She shrugged, “I need to get a closer look.”

“Where is it?”

She pointed towards the opposite edge of the canyon, eliciting a stifled groan from Jeralt.

“Of course,” he sighed.

It took them several hours to reach the cave Byleth had seen, and they had more than a few close calls along the way. It seemed that no matter how stable looking a surface was, it still had the chance to break off and drop you directly into molten lava, or drop you down thirty feet into molten lava, or drop an avalanche’s worth of rocks onto your head so molten lava could drop onto you.

It was already late in the afternoon by the time they reached the cave mouth, and they had to choose their entry point carefully to avoid the lava that poured down from above.

The cave itself was about sixty feet high at its upper edge but was only about thirty or so feet deep at at most. If Byleth was honest with herself it was proportioned more like a crater than a proper cave. The falling lava illuminated the interior with an soft orange glow, highlighting the mysterious object in the center of the space. 

It was a ten foot wide black metal cylinder that was wedged halfway into the bare rock. Its surface was pristine despite its surroundings, and as they approached they could see complex patterns of geometric runes carved into the sides. Though it was difficult to see due to the sheer size of the object, the visible end seemed to bend in on itself slightly.

“Well… this is…” Jeralt grunted as he climbed up onto a ledge near the thing to get a better look, “Something.”

_ Light. _

Byleth didn’t respond as a storm of thoughts overtook her mind, too chaotic to focus on individually.

_ Fire. _

She felt her feet moving beneath her as her senses retreated. It was if her consciousness was watching her from afar while her body moved on its own.

_ Screams. _

Her vision was consumed by white light, her ears assaulted with ghastly wails, muted pounding, and the sound of crumbling walls. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a voice calling to her.

_ Agony. _

She cried out as her fingers touched the smooth dark metal and a flash of eldritch energy pulled at her arm, tearing jagged strips from her flesh. The entire chamber rumbled as the object shuddered violently, releasing a shower of dust and small rocks from the ceiling above.

“Kid… What did you do?” Jeralt demanded.

“This…” Byleth whispered as the object began to shake violently and emit a hum loud enough to drown out any other sound. There was a pressure in the air that hadn’t been there before, a freezing mist that poured out of the surface of the object and penetrated deep into her bones, locking them in place.

_ Not here. _

Enbarr. 

_ Not again. _

But not just Enbarr.

Divine fire flooded Byleth’s limbs as rage consumed her fear and burned away the paralysis. She stepped forward, grabbing onto the outside of the object… the Pillar, with her bare hands, fingers carving deep gashes into the metal. Dark power lashed out at her as she haphazardly pulled a panel off the exterior, but she was too furious to care about the wounds she sustained. The inside of the Pillar surged with chaotic energy that spilled eagerly out of the hole she had created. Two jagged bolts of violet lightning lashed out of the opening, ripping through her right shoulder and left hip. 

Her hands moved instinctively to a small disk that was sewn into the Pillar with strands of metal. She yanked the object free as the din around her reached a crescendo, crushing it in her hand as soon as it was completely detached.

And all at once it stopped. The sound, the shaking, and the light all abruptly cut out, leaving Byleth alone in the sudden stillness. 

She was safe.

They were safe.

Jeralt. 

She looked around feverishly as her senses returned to her and the holy light burned off of her body. She had to find him. He couldn’t die here. 

His crumpled form lay a dozen or so feet from the Pillar, his breastplate covered in the dust that had broken off of the ceiling. Several large chunks of rock lay beside him, and she couldn’t detect any movement from this distance. She collapsed in front of him, tears already welling in her eyes, but before they hit the rocky ground she saw and heard a cough burst from her father.

He groaned as he sat up, attempting to wipe the dirt from his face with his equally dirty forearm. Byleth was on him as soon as he had fully righted himself, and though he had many questions, he thought it best to just lean into Byleth’s embrace for now.

“Are you okay?” She said hurriedly, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what that was. I don’t know what I did. I-”

“It’s okay kid,” Jeralt grunted as he stood, “I’m fine. Just some bumps and bruises, I’ve had much worse.”

His expression turned to one of worry as he took in her features, “Are you alright? You look like shit.”

“I…” Byleth breathed, now suddenly, and unfortunately, aware of her physical state. Her shoulder and hip burned where the lightning had struck her, jagged purple wounds throbbed against her pale skin, already cauterized by the lightning’s heat. Her hand was coated in thick, viscous blood and shards of something she assumed was stone. Her vision was blurred and her entire body felt like it had been trampled by a horse as she stumbled to her feet. As soon as she was properly upright she felt herself begin to fall. 

“Woah, steady…” Jeralt said as he reached under her arms to keep her standing. “Let’s just… rest for a bit.” He gently lifted her off the ground and propped her against a nearby wall.

He did his best to tend her wounds, but given the limited resources available to them was only able to wrap them for now. Once she was settled, he returned to the Pillar to inspect it further. He was careful at first, but eventually came to the conclusion that the thing was now completely inert.

Several hours passed while Byleth struggled to recover enough of her strength to get them out of the cave. She could heal her injuries of course, but she would have to physically exert herself in order to do so. That was out of the question right now. Instead, she merely tried to concentrate on her breathing. 

One thing that she did notice in the time she spent resting was that her hand didn’t appear to be injured in any way. Jeralt had done his best to clean off the blood, and in doing so had discovered no source. Could she have healed it without thinking? Or was the blood not hers? Was it from the stone? Was it even blood?

Byleth stumbled to her feet as Jeralt returned to her. She didn’t necessarily feel better, but enough of the initial shock had worn off that she felt stable. 

“Think you’re well enough to get going?” He asked gently.

“Probably?” She whispered, earning a concerned look from her father, “No, definitely, it’ll be fine.” She amended.

Though he didn’t seem completely convinced, Jeralt shrugged and pointed back at the Pillar. “There’s something you should see before we go. I don’t know if it’s actually going to be useful to you but I think you should take a look anyway.”

She followed him back to the ledge the Pillar was wedged into, carefully stepping around the debris that Jeralt had ripped out of the interior of the device. 

“Its a bit hard to see...” He said, leaning down to look into the hole Byleth had torn open, “But there’s some kind of symbol on the inside. I figure it might mean something to you.”

Though the inside of the Pillar was dark, the ambient light from the falling lava was enough to reveal the strange pattern that was etched into the inner surface. At the center was a small, narrow eye consisting of only sclera and a wide pupil. This was surrounded by two concentric circles connected to each other with a series of lines and small dots. Finally, the whole shape was flanked by two branching designs that resembled geometric ivy.

_Agartha._

There were emotions attached to this symbol… a lot of emotions… too many emotions for her to understand right now. 

“This is… something…” She mumbled numbly, “I can’t… right now.”

“Can’t blame you for that. I’ll make a rubbing of it in case you need a reference,” Jeralt sighed, reaching into his pack for a piece of charcoal.

“Don’t. If we have a copy someone might find it.” Byleth said forcefully, “I… I’m definitely not going to forget that.” 

“If you say so,” Jeralt shrugged, “In any case, we should get out of here if you’re well enough. Rhea’s going to be suspicious if we come back too late.”

She nodded grimly and set off towards the slowly dripping lava with her father in tow, wrapping them both in a fragile ward as they approached the exit.

* * *

**Edelgard**

Edelgard pushed open the heavy wooden door to the Black Eagle’s classroom and was immediately hit with a wave of unpleasant warm air. It had gotten significantly hotter over the past few weeks, but she had long ago learned to tolerate that. Living in the Imperial Palace in the summer was like living inside a massive, dusty stew pot, so the heat that the monks incessantly complained about was nothing to her. Admittedly, part of her tolerance for the heat came from her crest of Seiros adapting her body temperature, but she refused to give her blood all the credit.

She moved toward Byleth’s desk with Hubert in tow, noting Lindhardt and Petra at the desks before their professor. Byleth had agreed with Hubert and Edelgard’s hunch that the letter about the assassination plot found on Lonato was likely fake, and had asked their class to explore the Monastery in an attempt to discern the Western Church’s true intent.

Edelgard knew their true intent of course. Her sources in the Kingdom had informed her that the Western Church were trying to break into the Holy Mausoleum to steal the remains of Saint Seiros, or at least whatever was in her coffin. Unfortunately for them, she knew that they wouldn’t find what they were looking for, as the ‘remains’ of Saint Seiros had been shambling around the monastery for the past thousand or so years. Her… other allies informed her that this discovery would serve to further the distance between the Western and Central church and create even more unrest within the Kingdom.

Though she hadn’t been given any explicit instructions, she had come to the conclusion that it would be best to draw her class’s attention away from the Mausoleum.

“Edelgard, Hubert,” Byleth smiled as they reached her, “Did you learn anything interesting?”

“We did. After speaking with several monks, knights, and other staff, we have come to the conclusion that our enemies are likely targeting the Monastery’s vault,” Edelgard explained,” Given that the majority of the Knights were tasked with protecting the Archbishop and the monks will be participating in the ritual, the vault will be largely undefended.”

“Interesting…” Byleth said, her smile fading somewhat.

“Even on the Monastery’s best day, the vault’s security is… lacking.” Hubert said with a wry smile, “Plundering it on the night of the Rite of Rebirth would be a simple task.”

“While I wasn’t able to learn any details about the relics contained within, the monk who was keeping watch assured me that they were quite powerful.” Edelgard added, “Surely we wouldn’t want such things to fall into our enemies’ hands.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Byleth asked.

“Quite sure,” Edelgard nodded. 

“Strange…” Byleth mused, “Did you investigate the Cathedral too?”

“We did…” Edelgard said carefully.

“Caspar and Ferdinand came to similar conclusions,” Byleth stated as turned back down to the paper she had been grading, “But the rest of your house was more concerned about the Holy Mausoleum. And honestly after doing a few interviews of my own, I’m on their side.”

“I suppose…” Edelgard glanced over at Hubert, “We had a similar theory at first, but came to the conclusion that there was little of value in the Mausoleum. Our enemies are more likely to attack a place that contains arcane relics that are important to the Church.”

A voice from behind caught Edelgard off guard, and she turned to see Lindhardt staring at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Though I don’t wish to contradict my future emperor, I’d like to point out that the archaic definition of the word ‘relic’ is a sacred item that is either constructed from or contains the remains of an important figure in a religion, usually a saint.” He said flatly, resting his head on one of his hands, “It seems to me that there is no relic more important to the Church of Seiros than the bones of Saint Seiros herself.” 

“I didn’t know that, but thats a great point Lindhardt.” Byleth smiled as Edelgard’s brow furrowed, “It’d help validate their cause if they did to steal something like that. It might even help sway more people to their side.”

“But the Central Church is more than capable of recovering anything that was stolen from them, especially if provides no boon in combat.” Edelgard argued, “Surely they would want something that would help them in their fight against the knights.”

“I think you’re underestimating the value of symbolism, especially when religion is involved. It would be easy to justify that the Goddess is on their side if they were able to steal Seiros’s remains, surely she would’ve stepped in if she didn’t want them to be stolen.” Byleth sighed, turning her attention back to Edelgard. She shifted her position in her chair slightly, and Edelgard noticed her wince as her hip brushed against the armrest. “If you’d like, I can send a few members of our house to the vault just in case, but I’m going to have most of you keeping an eye on the Mausoleum.” 

“I’d rather not separate us just to be safe, we work best as a team after all,” Edelgard relented, “I just pray that you’re correct.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Byleth shrugged as she turned her attention back to her work.

* * *

**Byleth**

Byleth winced as she shifted her weight onto her left leg to deflect a heavy blow from the knight that was bearing down on her. The wounds on her shoulder and hip had refused to respond to healing magic in the weeks since she and her father visited Ailell. Even the others were far more tenacious than usual, but a few hours of healing cleared them up. Though she hated to admit it, she had forgotten how miserable it was to be injured, and while the injuries were healing on their own, it was frustrating to have to fight through that pain.

She stepped to the side, using the momentum of the movement to slash at a seam in her foe’s armor. The gash in the man’s stomach sent a spray of crimson across the dusty stone floor, and his next step collapsed under him. As usual, her class had intercepted some of the Western Church’s soldiers while they were attempting to raid the Holy Mausoleum. She feared for a moment that Edelgard would shift her peoples’ attention towards the vault now that they knew it was undefended, but apparently whatever they thought was in the Holy Mausoleum was still more important.

The sparks from a fire spell flickered into life in the distance, forcing Byleth to take shelter behind a nearby pillar. The blast sent waves of heat past her on both sides as she shouted orders at a now cowering Bernadetta. The girl peaked up from behind the casket she was hiding behind for a moment before swiftly ducking back down. It took a few more shouted commands and waves of fire before she finally caved and took the shot, and the dull thud and stifled groan confirmed that the arrow had found its mark.

She could feel the Death Knight’s… Feel Jeritza’s gaze on her as she ducked out of cover and charged towards an enemy soldier with Ferdinand in toe. She had split her class into two units and sent them down different sides of the Mausoleum in an attempt to keep them as far away from him as possible. It was suicide to engage him this early in a cycle.

Still he stood in the middle of the conflict, calm as a mountain surrounded by a roiling ocean, content to merely enjoy the spectacle of their battle. 

The soldiers they fought here were clearly more experienced than the ones they had encountered in the previous months, and Byleth could see her students struggling against these more determined, more vicious foes. Despite this, their opponents had their backs against the wall and no way to call for reinforcements, so it was only a matter of time before they reached the mage standing before Saint Seiros’s Coffin.

She heard the man mutter something under his breath as the heavy stone lid slid off of the casket towards chamber floor, but his words were drowned out by the impact.

Hearing Byleth’s charging footsteps behind him, he reached into the coffin and took hold of the Sword of the Creator within. He heaved it over the ledge with both hands and settled into an extremely unsteady stance, his arms quivering under the weight of the weapon.

Byleth was on him a moment after he took up his position, and with a series of calculated strikes sent the sword spiralling into the air towards her, just as she had dozens of times already. She reached up, feeling the familiar contours of the grip fit smoothly into her hand once more.

She had always been told that the Sword of the Creator was heavy. Everyone who picked it up, whether they were curious about the design or were attempting to steal it from her, would note the weight of the blade. Even Dimitri with his strength-enhancing Crest of Blaythid had mentioned that the sword felt far heavier than most. 

But she had never felt that way. The sword fit into her hand as if it was meant to be there, and it felt more like an extension of herself, or even another limb, when she wielded it. If she was honest, she thought normal swords were far heavier, and while she could, she preferred not to use anything other than her Heroes’ Relic. 

She had never had a good answer for how she was able to control the blade, because she just knew instinctively how. There was never any learning curve, never any trial and error, the sword simply did what she wanted it to do.

But as her fingers found their places on the hilt and gravity took over, she realized that something was very, very wrong. The sword plummeted towards the ground, smashing into the stone floor with a force that sent a jarring shockwave up her arm. She glanced back at it as she fully processed what had happened and saw that the blade was still a dull ivory color instead of the flickering orange that it usually was when she wielded it. The indentations on the grip that normally fit her hand perfectly now as unfamiliar as a blade manufactured in halfway across the world in Dagda.

She knew in the back of her mind that the mage on the platform was preparing a spell and that she needed to act before he finished, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of, or even look away from the sword. Maybe it just needed time? Maybe she had just forgotten that it took a moment to acclimate to her… Maybe all of this was a horrible dream… Maybe- 

The scorching heat of a fireball collided with her chest as the mage’s spell went off, and and searing pain shot through her core. Her breastplate glowed with residual heat, the smell of burning flesh reaching her as she she screamed in surprise. Her grip on her normal sword failed, leaving her with nothing but the now abominably heavy Sword of the Creator. Agonizing pain coursed through her as she grasped the sword with both hands, raising it up in shaking arms towards her foe as he prepared another spell.

The light in the man’s hands went out as an arrow from Bernadetta struck him in the stomach, and Byleth smelled ozone in the air before he was consumed by a brilliant bolt of white lightning conjured by Dorothea. 

She heard her class rush to her side as she fell to one knee, their voices momentarily drowning out her own racing thoughts. 

“Professor, please do not be dead!” It was Petra’s voice that reached her first. Lindhardt crouched down over her, his shaking hands alight with holy magic as he tended to her burns. 

“Are you alright? Should I go get Manuella?” Dorothea asked frantically, checking around the room to ensure that they were alone. Byleth glanced over her shoulder at Jeritza as he stared nonplused back at her. She watched his form dissolve into the darkness before disappearing without a sound. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Byleth grunted. She stood slowly as the pain in her chest melted away, leaving her with just the wounds from the lightning to worry about. She noted Hubert casually peering into the coffin while he thought she wasn’t looking, but he masked his surprised expression well, “I’ve been hit with worse. Are you all alright?”

“I think we’re all good.” Caspar said, glancing around at his classmates, “We’ve got Linhardt to thank for that!”

“You and Dorothea did a great job,” Byleth smiled at Linhardt and Dorothea in turn, “We wouldn’t have gotten through that without you two.”

“Thanks Byleth… I-” Dorothea mumbled, her voice quavering.

“Professor… what is that?” Caspar asked suddenly, rudely cutting off Dorothea.

She realized that in all the commotion she had yet to let go of the Sword of the Creator. She hoisted the blade into one hand while keeping the other on the grip, looking over the sword which now felt so foriegn in her arms. Even with the passage of time it had remained its burnt ivory color, showing no traces of familiar orange light.

“It looks like…” Ferdinand began slowly, “But how could that be?”

“Is it one of the Relics of Heroes?” Petra asked, leaning in to get a closer look.

“It definitely looks like one.” Bernadetta agreed.

“The Sword of the Creator…” Ferdinand said with no small amount of concern, earning a slew of looks ranging from echoed concern to confusion to something approaching excitement, “The blade wielded by the King of Liberation… Nemesis.” 

“Fascinating…” Edelgard breathed, her expression of shock unusually genuine.

Their conversation ceased as they heard the sound of charging footsteps heading down the stairs into the Mausoleum. 

A unit of knights lead by Catherine filed through the wide archway and into the room, their alert stances relaxing as they noticed that the battle had already ended. The new arrivals made a token effort to clear the scene as her class was escorted out of the cavernous chamber, their footsteps coalescing into a din within the wide hallway. Byleth attempted to put her thoughts to the side and relay the situation to Catherine as they walked, all the while clutching the Sword of the Creator in white knuckled hands.

* * *

**Edelgard**

A dim, guttering torch was all that stood between Edelgard and the oppressive darkness that ceaselessly strived to close in around her. The tunnels under the Monastery could only be described as labyrinthine, and despite their best efforts her scouts had yet to fully map them. That said, they had accomplished their primary mission, to find a route that led out of the Monastery grounds and into the forests beyond.

She snuffed out the torch with a simple incantation as she saw the silver moonlight streaming through a distant doorway. Despite the fact that she had never seen another soul in this maze, human or otherwise, her hand still rested on the dagger at her hip.

The cool wind was a welcome relief as she emerged from the musty tunnel into the night air. Leaving the torch by the entrance to the tunnels, she set off into the dark woods, eyes alert for any sign of unwelcome movement. She was still getting used to truly wild areas. Her whole life she had been surrounded by well manicured gardens and stunted trees planted along the streets of Enbarr, so seeing a place like this, where nature had fully consumed the landscape, was novel, exciting even. She longed to explore it, but knew she didn’t have the time.

Her destination was a well disguised old logging cabin that had been reclaimed by the forest, a faint sign of humanity’s hubris that was slowly being erased by nature’s inexorable tide.

She ducked cautiously through the rotting doorframe, deliberately avoiding the crumbling door that hung loosely on its hinges so as to not make a sound. The moonlight that filtered through the tree branches and the holes in the desiccated roof cast a patchy light over the interior, turning the silhouettes of the ruined furniture into formless entities that her subconscious told her to fear.

Despite this, the thing in the room that inspired the strongest emotions was one with a far more recognizable shape.

She wasn’t entirely sure what It was. It wore the face of her uncle, Volkhard Von Arundell, but she knew this was merely a ghoulish mask. She had believed Its lies at first, desperately seeking a justification for her uncle’s changed behavior, but this trust had led only to pain. She couldn’t deny that it was a convincing disguise, but enough scrutiny revealed the loose stitching at the seams. The most apparent flaw was that… well… it was flawless. Porcelain skin and perfectly slicked hair that fell over immaculately clean robes, their stark white and gold design glimmering in the light of the moon. Its piercing silver eyes peered out at her from under neat heavy brows, and its thin lips were pulled into a sinister smile, framed by delicately sculpted facial hair.

“Would you like to apologize for your tardiness?” It asked dispassionately, raising one of its perfect eyebrows, “Or have you an appropriate justification for your timing?”

“I had to ensure that I wasn’t followed,” Edelgard growled as she pulled her hood down, not bothering to disguise the disdain in her voice, “If you truly care about punctuality you should choose a more equitable meeting spot.”

It laughed, a hollow, cold sound that carried no true joy. “I see your fire still burns child… Just ensure that it is properly directed.”

“Enough with the banalities,” Edelgard demanded, “What is it you wished to discuss?” 

Its smile faded slightly as it realized that she would not indulge it in its games tonight.

“Those fools from the Western Church have failed in both of their missions correct? The Archbishop still lives, and the nothing was taken from the Mausoleum?” It asked coldly, “I have reports from our agents, but I wanted to get an… eye witness account.”

“Yes. I attempted to direct my professor’s attention away from the Mausoleum, but she insisted that our class keep watch over it,” Edelgard explained, “Once the battle began, there wasn’t much I could do to secure a victory for our allies.”

“I had little faith in them from the start, but tales of their meager rebellion are still more than enough to invite disunity into the Kingdom.” It sighed, “This professor of yours, do you believe she was aware of our plan?”

“Hubert and I wondered the same thing after our meeting with her, but we determined that her conclusions could easily be drawn with no hidden information.” Edelgard said, “As member of the Church, it stands to reason that she would prioritize the protection of its most important relics over whatever is housed in the vault.”

“Do you believe that she may threaten our plans in any way?” It asked gravely, “While a surgical strike on a prominent figure within the church is not out of the question, it may… complicate things.”

“There is no reason to resort to such drastic measures,” Edelgard said carefully, “Its not worth jeopardizing our plans because of mere happenstance.”

“I appreciate your pragmatism, but I do hope that you are approaching this matter with the appropriate care,” Arundell crooned disingenuously, “Do bear in mind that no one, especially those involved with The Church, is to be trusted.”

“I’m well aware,” Edelgard assured It.

“For now, our agents will spread stories about the vacancy of Seiros’s coffin. This will invite doubt into the minds of the Kingdom’s citizens and divide them further once war is declared.” It said calmly, turning its attention away from her, “Cornelia has already begun to sow the seeds of doubt in the minds of many of the Kingdom’s nobles.”

“The coffin was not vacant.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said the coffin was not vacant,” Edelgard repeated, “There was something inside. The Sword of the Creator.”

The sound that emerged from Arundell’s lips was the closest she had ever heard to a genuine laugh from It. It was somehow worse than Its fake laughter.

“So that’s where the witch was keeping it.” It smiled widely, “How… Ironic.”

“It may also interest you to know that the crest stone had been removed from the weapon when it was found.” Edelgard continued.

“That is unsurprising,” It laughed, “It would be foolish to keep the two in the same place. Without the Crest Stone the sword is naught but an elaborate paperweight, so we needn’t worry about it for now...

“Though I suppose if the stone is found, the blade may find a new master,” Its eyes looked her up and down as it spoke, “Wouldn’t that be so wonderfully poetic.” 

“I’m not interested in your sense of irony or in hypotheticals.” Edelgard said flatly, “Preparations for the next phase of our plan are nearly complete, correct?”

“Indeed,” It smiled, “So long as you entrust your ‘Death Knight’ to me.”

“He is yours to command. See that you use him appropriately.” Edelgard sighed, “Is there anything else I should know before I depart?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Arundell said, amused, “I believe our business is complete for tonight.”

And with that, Its form began to distort, features melting away into darkness until it was only Edelgard standing in the decrepit shack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine has not been quite as productive as I hoped, but I have played about 300 hours of Persona 5 and adopted a new batch of misfit kids, so that's been nice. Also I may be a bona fide lesbian, but my love for Jeralt and Sojiro makes me wonder if I'm also into DILFs.


	9. Tower of Broken Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth dreams of being hunted. Edelgard and Byleth spar. Life without the Sword of the Creator. Byleth and Edelgard speak.

**??? Moon, ???** **  
** **Byleth**

The wind whipping past her face and the din of charging hooves dulled Byleth’s senses as her horse galloped through the crisp autumn morning. The forest was little more than a blurred stream around her, a haze of brown and gold broken up by patches of dappled sunlight and dark mounds of stone.

She hoped that her mount would be swift enough to reach her reinforcements before the black beasts did, but even with her diminished ability to comprehend her surroundings she knew that one was fast approaching. There was an almost imperceptible rhythmic beating in the wind, and while that may seem frightening at first blush, she knew that it was the stillness that she needed to be conscious of.

Her horse pulled its legs in as it leapt over a narrow stream, kicking up a cloud of leaves as it landed. But as it began to gallop again, she realized that the whispers on the wind had ceased.

She tucked in and leapt from her steed as a powerful burst of air hit them both, causing her horse’s legs to crumple beneath it. It cried out in pain, though it was quickly silenced by the impact of their pursuer.

Byleth rolled to her feet, whipping her sword from its sheath and calling divine power into her other hand. The black beast sunk its claws into the horse’s corpse as it landed, twisting its long neck down to inspect its prey. She should run while she had the chance. As she turned to leave, she heard a shriek from behind her, ducking just in time to avoid a slicing gale.

Too late.

The black beast’s wingtips bored into the soft earth as it launched itself towards her, ravenous maw opening to reveal rows of serrated teeth beneath its macabre mask.

Byleth dashed to the right as the creature slammed into the spot where she had been seconds ago. She took a slash in its neck while she had the opportunity, severing some of the dark tendons and muscles that held the creature together. 

It screamed again, the sound echoing above the treeline and momentarily deafening her. Stunned by the ringing in her ears, she failed to notice the creature’s wingtip as it plunged down onto her, cutting a gruesome gash in her right shoulder that sent her to her knees.

She released the divine energy in her left hand, a searing blast of holy light that cleaved off a chunk of her enemy’s mask. It’s now exposed bulbous eye twitched violently for a moment before the blaze consumed it, boiling it out of its socket as the flesh around it charred. While the creature was distracted, Byleth paused time for a few seconds to tear herself from its claws and heal her shoulder. 

When time righted itself the beast began thrashing violently with its head and claws, blinded in both a literal and emotional sense. Byleth took hold of the timestream once again and pulled, her foe’s movements slowing to the point that it appeared as if the creature was trying to move in molasses. She stepped out of the way as its head plunged sluggishly down towards her, pinpointing her exact target.

She jumped towards the black beast’s neck as it slammed its head into the earth, driving her sword into the wound she had opened previously. With one swift upwards slash, she carved the creature’s spinal column in two, and the violent convulsions that animated the creature’s body all but ceased.

Byleth released her grip on time, breathing heavily as she took a second to steady herself. The black beast’s two parts fell heavily on the ground below, their impact nearly knocking her off of her feet.

Between the beast’s screaming, her blast of divine energy, and her manipulation of the timestream, she had no doubt that the other creatures pursuing her had already pinpointed her location. She had to get out of here.

Before she left the clearing, she wreathed her left hand in holy fire and plunged it into the head of her fallen foe, the sinews burning away eagerly as she pushed. Her hand shattered it’s skull as it impacted, exposing the mutilated crest stone within. With one quick motion, she ripped the disk free and crushed it in her hand, feeling the warm viscous liquid within begin to run down her wrist.

“I’m truly sorry... But your suffering is over now.”

* * *

**Verdant Rain Moon, 1181** **  
** **Edelgard**

A peal of thunder echoed across the gentle peaks somewhere in the distance. The Monastery’s training grounds had already begun to experience the effects of the oncoming storm, and a light drizzle fell on the two combatants that dared to continue their sparring. They had agreed that it was best to continue their practice despite the weather, accepting that they wouldn’t have the luxury of postponing a real battle. 

Edelgard had noticed a change in her professor’s attitude ever since their fight in the Holy Mausoleum. Byleth seemed distracted, even reckless when they fought. She had discussed the matter with Hubert and had taken some time to consider the reasons for this change, and though she assumed it had to do with what transpired on their last mission she still felt like she was in the dark on Byleth’s true feelings.

Regardless, Byleth’s change in attitude was proving to be beneficial to Edelgard when the two of them fought. Byleth’s movements were usually incredibly calculated, as if she could read her opponent’s mind and respond accordingly. Over the past week or so however, she had been overextending when she attacked, deflecting blows at the wrong angle, and settling into obviously unsteady stances. While Edelgard had yet to best her teacher in combat, she was coming closer and closer every time they fought.

Edelgard deflected an upward blow with the haft of her axe as she dodged backwards, using the momentum of the attack to shift her grip towards the end of the haft and widen the distance between the two of them. She swept her axe towards Byleth’s midriff now that the immediate danger was out of the way but Byleth dodged backward at the last second, creating enough distance that the two were now properly disengaged. They paced slow circles on the soft earth, both poised to strike at any moment.

Byleth was the first to act, darting forward with a two handed overhead strike that Edelgard had to step back to block. She was always surprised by just how strong her professor was. Whenever she put her full force into an attack it took all of Edelgard’s strength to hold her stance. Edelgard tilted her axe to the side in an attempt to divert Byleth’s force, but her teacher was quick to withdraw her weapon. 

Fortunately for Edelgard, her professor’s foot landed in a particularly muddy spot and her next attack was too reckless. Byleth dodged backwards, shifting her weight awkwardly into an overextended thrust, a mistake Edelgard was determined to make the most of. She took her left hand off the haft of her axe and shifted her right so that it was only an inch or so from the head. She wrapped her now free left arm around Byleth’s sword arm, trying to twist it in such a way that she would drop the blade as her axe head closed in on Byleth’s neck.

It was then that Edelgard felt something. Something that she had a very hard time describing in retrospect. It was a sort of… shudder. It was as if reality itself contracted and expanded for the briefest of moments before settling back to normal.

After the moment passed, she felt a sharp pain in her ribs and a dull pressure against her neck. Byleth stood with her fist clenched and her sword against Edelgard’s throat, a movement so fast that the princess couldn’t begin to comprehend it.

She blinked, and for a just second saw something in her professor’s eyes. They were… panicked… almost feral, in a way that Edelgard had never seen before. This expression was quickly replaced by one of guilt, perhaps even shame as Byleth withdrew her blade and took a step back.

“Oh, I… Um…” She stammered, “I… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. This is no worse than any other training injury,” Edelgard breathed as she put some experimental pressure on her side, “Your… reflexes are quite impressive.” 

“Yeah, I… Sorry about that, I think my merc instincts took over for a second.” Byleth said quietly, “We should probably head in anyway, our time is almost up.”

“If you are truly capable of such speed I’d prefer that you not pretend otherwise.” Edelgard sighed as they headed towards the awning, “It does me no good to fight against someone who is always holding back.”

By the time they had reached safety, the storm had moved directly overhead and heavy raindrops had begun a vicious assault on the muddy ground below. “Like I said, that was more of an instinctive reaction than something I did consciously. Just muscle memory.” Byleth said after they crossed the threshold, "I promise I wasn’t holding back.”

“I’m not entirely convinced, but I suppose that I will believe you for now,” Edelgard replied, sitting down on one of the long wooden benches that lined the walls as she rang out her damp hair, “Just know that one day I will best you. I promise you that.”

“We’ll see…” Byleth said quietly as she put their weapons back on the rack. 

“In any case, I’d like to thank you for sparring with me today,” Edelgard smiled, “I feel that I have learned a lot from you over the last few months.”

“I’m glad,” Byleth attempted to return the smile, “I do have to get to my next one on one session though. Remember that your paper on the Crescent Moon War is due on Friday.”

“It’s already finished,” Edelgard assured her as Byleth started to make her way towards the stairwell. Her smile faded as her professor disappeared from view, leaving Edelgard in the company of the few students and knights that remained. She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms as a pair of myrmidons began another bout. 

She had a hard time believing that her professor’s reaction had been mere reflex. She had fought against fast enemies in the past, but nothing she had seen had even come close to Byleth’s speed in their battle. Her position had changed in the blink of an eye, so fast that Edelgard was completely incapable of following the movement. 

But perhaps it wasn’t speed. She felt… wrong in a way that was hard to describe. As if something within her had shifted an infinitesimal distance, yet was still moved out of its normal place. And though she hated to admit it, the feeling was somewhat familiar.

* * *

**Byleth**

Suffice to say the past two weeks had been… difficult for Byleth. She had even considered hard resetting the cycle after her most recent dream, but decided she would just tough it out for a while longer. This whole cycle was supposed to be about getting close to Edelgard, but between her alleged lack of crest, her slipup during her sparring match with Edelgard, her bizarre dreams, and whatever the hell was going on with the Sword of the Creator, it had been hard to focus on that goal. 

Speaking of the Sword of the Creator, Rhea had taken it from her with little to no ceremony after her class’s battle in the Holy Mausoleum. It had taken all Byleth had to not to beg for it back, but she knew logically that Rhea had no reason to let her keep it. The thing that frustrated her the most however was that Rhea's reaction to the situation was nearly identical to what it always was despite how wildly different things were in this cycle. She was surprised, sure, but no more so than usual.

“Come now Byleth, you have to pay closer attention.” Manuela’s voice pierced through her idle thoughts, bringing her back to the dimly lit infirmary. The sun always strove to breach the windows of the room in the afternoon, but Manuela had learned how to position the heavy curtains to keep the majority of the harsh light out. 

“Right. Yes. Sorry,” Byleth said sheepishly. After spending a rather embarrassing amount of time mourning the loss of her sword, she decided that if she was going to have to go without it she was at least going to find an excuse to use white magic again. Normally she pretended to develop the skill over the first two years of each cycle, but she needed her powers now, and having a ‘teacher’ was the perfect way to do that.

“The first spell any aspiring cleric learns is a simple light,” Manuela said, loudly snapping her fingers. An incandescent orb burst into being above her hand, illuminating the space around them with a soft pink glow. “But before you begin to cast, you need to understand where white magic comes from.”

She waved her hand dismissively and the orb dissolved, allowing the room’s atmosphere to return to its previous gloomy state.

“It’s from the Goddess right?” Byleth asked innocently. 

“Exactly. When a white mage wants to cast a spell, all they have to do is ask the Goddess for tiny a favor.” Manuela smiled, “It’s your faith in her that determines how powerful the magic is. The stronger your conviction, the stronger the spell will be. If you doubt, it will only weaken your magic.” 

Byleth nodded, scribbling a few notes into the journal she had brought with her. While she knew they wouldn’t help, she thought it best to keep up the pretense.

“Just focus on conjuring the light for now,” Manuela continued, leaning back in her chair, “Don’t bother trying to change its color or brightness, that will come later. Let me know when you’ve got it down.”

“Sure, I can do that.” Byleth said as she contemplated whether or not Maneula had given her enough information to start practicing. Her fellow professor had started the lesson with a dramatic account of how she first began to learn white magic and it had taken her forty five minutes to get to any actual instruction. Byleth couldn’t help but wonder if this was how she taught her actual classes.

“Well, that should be enough for now. Although… since I have you here already, whats say we share a drink?” Manuela grinned as she clapped her hands together. She retrieved a pair of glasses from the tall cabinets on the far wall, refilling one and pouring the other which she offered to Byleth. She graciously accepted and got a bit more comfortable in her seat. Now that she thought about it, drinking with Manuela seemed like a great distraction from everything. 

“How have your students been?” Manuela asked as Byleth took a large swig out of her glass. “Have you regretted choosing the Eagles yet?”

Byleth let out an involuntary laugh that transitioned unpleasantly into a cough. She waved Manuela off as the other woman stood to help her, taking in a deep breath of warm summer air.

“No, no. They’re fine,” Byleth cleared her throat, “Honestly I knew what to expect. I didn’t deal with many nobles before I came here, but I was in the room with my dad when he did.”

“I’m impressed,” Manuela smiled, mirroring Byleth’s drink, “I had my doubts at first, but frankly you’re a natural.”

“I don’t know about that…” Byleth said, “I think they only listen to me because I make them nervous.”

“Oh hardly,” Manuela scoffed, “I know for a fact that Dorothea loves you, she always seems happy after your one on one sessions with her. And I’ve seen how your students act around you after the mock battles.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Going from being a mercenary to this is… weird. I guess I’m kind of used to people being scared of me.” Byleth laughed, “How are the Lions?”

“They’re fine I suppose.” Manuela sighed, slumping in her chair slightly, “They’re good kids but they’re all so straight laced. Well, except for the Gautier boy.”

“I’ve heard some… things about him from Seteth,” Byleth smiled, “Some choice words that I don’t think I should repeat.”

“Seteth just hates any man who so much as glances at Flayn. Sylvain’s not that much of a bother.” Manuela said, taking another sip from her glass, “He is the only one of them who is capable of having fun after all, even if he doesn’t apply himself enough.”

“I feel the same way about Lindhardt, at least in terms of him not applying himself,” Byleth said, “He’s so smart but he just doesn’t do any of the assigned work. And when I go to his room I find it full of thick books and journals, half of which seem to be written by him.”

“The trick is to find the thing they’re interested in and let them focus on it. You’ve got to make them think they’re not actually working.” Manuela smiled as her expression turned nostalgic, “The problem with Sylvain is that all he wants to focus on is dating, not that I should be throwing stones in that department.”

“I’m amazed you have the time for that kind of thing,” Byleth said, “After the first day I decided to put that off until I have literally any free time.”

“Well you shouldn’t wait too long,” Manuela scolded, “Most people don’t age as gracefully as I have.” 

“You are one of the lucky ones,” Byleth laughed.

Byleth took another sizable swig of her wine. It was noticeably more potent than the stuff served in the dining hall, but fortunately the flavor was strong enough to disguise the alcohol. While it was true that Manuela neglected many aspects of her life, Byleth always admired how much effort she put in to the parts she actually cared about. She had told Byleth in the past that she had all of her wine imported from an exhaustively curated list of Adrestian vineyards, and it showed.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you spoken with Professor Hanneman recently?” Manuela said after a moment, shifting forward in her seat as a frown came over her.

“Only in the staff meetings,” Byleth replied. “He must have his hands full with the Golden Deer.”

“I’m not so sure… The Leicester kids are usually a handful but this year doesn’t seem any worse than normal,” Manuela mused, “The old man has always been something of a hermit, but I swear he only leaves his office to eat and teach these days. ”

“You know him better than I do,” Byleth shrugged as she downed the last of her wine. She had actually attempted to talk to Hanneman many times over the past few months, but he had been frustratingly evasive. At this point she felt like she was days away from breaking down the door to his office and demanding her blood back. 

“I almost miss his blithering. Almost.” Manuela sighed, “Oh, and by the way, if you tell him I said that I’ll never forgive you.”

“My lips are sealed,” Byleth laughed.

“Good.” Manuela smiled. 

“Professor Manuela?” A familiar voice drifted over from the doorway, and the two women turned to see Dorothea standing at the threshold, “Oh, Byleth! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“We were just having some private professor time,” Manuela said playfully.

“I just wanted to stop by and see if you wanted to get dinner, but the two of you seem preoccupied.” Dorothea smiled, “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Oh nonsense, you are never a bother my dear,” Manuela crooned as she stood from her seat, “Byleth, what’s say we go get some dinner and bring it back here so we can continue this conversation. Of course you are more than welcome to join us Dorothea.”

The two women agreed wholeheartedly and set off to the monastery’s dining halls. The remainder of the evening was spent discussing every little piece of gossip that they had amassed over the last few weeks. Quite frankly, the amount of information the Manuela and Dorothea had managed to gather from their networks of friends, enemies, and lovers was astonishing. Byleth had thought that her understanding of the Monastery’s goings on was fairly comprehensive, but it seemed there layers that she hadn’t even considered prior to tonight. Granted, most of it was irrelevant to the timeline at large, but it was still interesting.

In all honesty, Byleth enjoyed having the ability to forget about her situation for a while. To obsess over inane information and get into heated discussions about interpersonal relationships was… nice. It almost made her feel like a normal person. Almost.

* * *

**Byleth**

Byleth’s attention was drawn back to Rhea as the Archbishop’s explanation of her class’s mission neared its end. The Lance of Ruin had been stolen by Miklan Gautier about a week earlier, and the knights had just now gathered enough intel to determine where he was hiding. The Black Eagles were to reclaim the lance and return it to House Gautier before the end of the month in the hopes of curbing any further violence in the Kingdom.

This was all entirely routine. What was not was the knight that stood next to Rhea. He was not normally a fixture of this interaction, and the bundle of white cloth he held gingerly in his arms intrigued her. 

“Now, Professor Byleth,” Rhea said, “You have never faced a Heroes’ Relic in battle yes?”

“I have not.”

“Please understand that these weapons command an immense amount of power, and though they cannot reach their full potential in the hands of one who does not bear a crest, they are still quite dangerous,” She said sternly, “It is of grave import that you remove the weapon from Miklan’s possession as soon as possible. Heroes’ Relics can be a bit… unstable in the wrong hands.”

“Understood,” Byleth nodded.

“Though I trust in the skill of your students, I fear that skill alone will not be enough. It is for this reason that I will have one of my elite knights accompany you,” Rhea continued, “Additionally, I wish to bestow this weapon upon you for the remainder of the month.” 

She leaned over to the knight next to her and took hold of a loose piece of the cloth. The knight stood stock still as she fully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a familiar shape within.

The flame blade of the Sword of Seiros glittered in the afternoon sunlight, the tip melting into the brilliant white of the cloth beneath it. Below it sat a similarly made round shield, it’s pristine surface engraved with the Crest of Seiros.

Byleth had seen the sword and shield on occasion and had only used them a handful of times, but it amazed her that Rhea was willing to allow her to use them. They were often taken by Edelgard after the siege on the monastery, but this was more a symbolic choice than a tactical one. They were certainly magnificent armaments, but looking at them now, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by a rush of memories. 

The Imperial Throne Room, its intricate marble floor marred by fallen stone and blood. 

Edelgard, crumpled before her with the sword piercing her skull.

Herself, with the blade in hand.

The silence.

Her mind snapped back to reality as she heard Seteth speak up.

“While I am… vehemently against this,” he sighed, “I understand that recovering the Lance of Ruin is extremely important and we should ensure our chance of success is as high as possible. However, I must insist that you treat these weapons with the appropriate respect.”

“Are you sure about this Archbishop?” Byleth mumbled after a moment, unable to take her eyes off the blade.

“I am certain,” Rhea smiled widely, “I have the upmost faith in you, and your students.”

“Well… I… Thank you,” Byleth bowed, taking the bundle from the knight, “I promise to be careful with these.”

“That concludes our meeting for the day,” Seteth said, “Now, if you will excuse us, Rhea and I have other business to discuss.”

Byleth nodded and quietly left the room, wrapping the sword and shield in the cloth as she did. She was too preoccupied by her own thoughts and memories to feel a pair of eyes on her as she left the audience chamber. Before she could begin her descent down the stairs, she heard a voice call out to her. 

“Professor, hey, could I talk to you for a second?” She turned to see Sylvain approaching her, his face unusually stern. 

“Hm?” She mumbled, hastily tucking the bundle she carried behind her.

“So, cards on the table, I was listening in on your meeting with Rhea,” He admitted with a guilty smile. Byleth noticed the guard standing behind them suddenly snap back to attention, an ashamed look on his face. “I received a letter from my father about what happened with Miklan and, to be honest, I was hoping that my house would be sent to deal with it.

“My older brother is… he… he’s one of the worst people I’ve ever known.” He continued, “But I never thought he’d go so far as to steal the Relic.”

“And?” Byleth probed.

“I… I want to be the one to put him down. I always had to clean up his messes when I was a kid, but this is a step too far.” Sylvain admitted, his tone grim, “Please let me accompany your class on your mission for this month.”

“Sure.” Byleth shrugged.

“Professor Byleth, please I-” Sylvain pleaded before registering her response, his desperation quickly replaced by confusion, “...Sure?”

“Yeah, you can come under two conditions. One, don’t listen in to conversations between the Archbishop and I again. Two, make sure I get the proper approval forms from Professor Manuela. It was a mistake to try to deny Ashe his permission.” Byleth said simply, “I get why this is important to you. Just make sure you keep your emotions in check alright?”

“I’m… okay… yeah I can do that. Sorry again for eavesdropping,” Sylvain said with a small bow, “I’ll talk to Professor Manuela as soon as I can. Thank you Professor.”

He walked briskly towards the office hallway and made the sharp turn into it, vanishing from view. While Byleth was always nervous about Ashe accompanying her class when they confronted Lonato, she had far fewer reservations about Sylvain coming to fight Miklan. The brothers’ feelings towards each other, namely hatred, were much more straightforward than Ashe’s relationship with his adoptive father. More than that, she knew that Sylvain would follow their convoy regardless of whether or not he was allowed to, and it was much easier to just let him accompany them officially.

She sighed, feeling the weight of the Sword of Seiros close to her chest. As much as she hated to admit it, she had started to cherish events like her meeting with Sylvain. When her understanding of the timeline lined up with reality. Something that would have been banal or even annoying before was now a relief, a reprieve from the chaotic nature of this cycle.

* * *

**Byleth**

The smoke that filled the second floor of Conand Tower did a marvelous job at keeping the scent of decay away from Byleth and her students. The bandit hideout run by Miklan didn’t exactly smell like a field of flowers in the first place, and adding several dozen fresh corpses to the aroma certainly didn’t help.

While they would normally vacate the site of a battle after it concluded, the driving rain outside the tower forced them to take shelter until the morning. Architecture in the Kingdom tended to favor utility over aesthetics, and Conand Tower was no exception. The straight, tall walls were cobbled together from dark stone and mortar, and the only windows were a few widely spaced arrow slits in the top floors. The squires the Church had sent to accompany them had done an admirable job setting up camp in spite of the circumstances, and now rested on their side of the tower to ensure that they were ready to clean the site in the morning. For now, the only hazy lights in the darkness were the three campfires they had set up for her class.

While her students’ moods weren’t exactly sunny, Byleth did notice that they were slightly lighter than previous months. Petra, Ferdinand, and Caspar were discussing maneuvers each of them used during battle, demonstrating their techniques for the others whenever they were remotely interested. Dorothea and Bernadetta sat around the far campfire, patching cuts in their armor while occasionally murmuring to one another. Lindhardt sat with them, his eyes distant as he stared into the crackling fire. 

Byleth sat across from Edelgard, who had been unusually quiet since the end of their battle. Hubert was next to her with an open journal that he was scratching notes into, occasionally looking off at nothing for a a few seconds before returning to his task. Sylvain and Gilbert were discussing something just out of earshot, their voices drowned out by the muffled sound of rain beyond the walls and their faces distorted by the flickering darkness.

And while it was true that the mood in the room was better than it had been in previous months, Byleth could tell that they were all skirting carefully around the subject of the Black Beast. A handful of them had been severely injured during the fight, but those wounds were nearly gone now thanks to Dorothea and Lindhard. Ferdinand was even killed in a swiftly revised timeline, which only reminded Byleth that the battles were going to continue to get worse from here on out.

Now that she was without it, it had occurred to her that she relied on the Sword of the Creator far too much. The reach and versatility it afforded her were significant advantages in battles against larger enemies, and allowed her to take out most normal foes before they could even reach her. Though she had long ago become accustomed to fighting without the weapon in the first couple months of each cycle, the concept of not having it at all concerned her greatly. How far could she truly hope to get without the blade by her side?

“You seem quite enamored with that weapon Byleth,” Edelgard’s voice drifted lazily over the campfire, breaking the silence between them. Byleth had spent the past few hours obsessively cleaning the Sword of Seiros, ensuring that every slight knick or drop of blood, no matter how small, was removed or polished. Something about the weapon made her nervous, though she couldn’t decide whether she was more afraid of the consequences of damaging it or the memories she associated with it. 

“I just don’t want to be lectured by Seteth about the proper treatment of holy artifacts.” Byleth said as she sheathed the sword, satisfied with her work. “I would rather have left it back at the monastery, but the Archbishop insisted that I bring it with me.”

“I’ll admit I was more than a bit surprised when I arrived at our convoy on Thursday and saw the blade lashed to your hip.” Edelgard slouched forward a bit, falling slightly out of her usual rigid posture. “I wonder…”

“Hm?”

“Do you suppose the Archbishop predicted that we would encounter that… thing. Could that be why she was so insistent?” Edelgard mused.

“I have no idea, if she did it would’ve been nice to know beforehand,” Byleth shrugged, “But your guess is as good as mine when it comes to Rhea’s thought process.”

In truth, Edelgard’s question was one Byleth had personally pondered many times before. Rhea must have known what they would encounter when they reached Miklan, and if so why did she not warn them? She knew Rhea didn’t want information about the Black Beasts spreading across Fodlan, so perhaps she hoped they would be able to slay Miklan before his transformation. Thus ensuring that she and her students never knew about the creatures in the first place. But even so, it seemed irresponsible to not warn Byleth.

“I will say you all did very well today,” Byleth smiled, “You adapted to the new situation very efficiently despite how… unusual it was.”

“Such is the nature of battle, though I suppose that the circumstances were a bit exceptional.” Edelgard replied, “But I think it would be disrespectful to discount Miklan’s prowess even before his transformation.”

“How so?” Byleth asked.

“The fact that he was able to capture this tower with an unruly gang of bandits is quite remarkable.” Edelgard said in a matter of fact tone, “And his use of the structure’s intricacies during the battle was commendable. In truth, I wasn’t expecting to face such a capable tactician. I wonder if we would have been able to triumph today without your guidance.”

“I think you woul-” Byleth began.

“His ‘tactics’ were only effective because he always chose the lowest possible road.” Sylvain’s voice came suddenly as he stepped into the firelight. “He used his followers, people who trusted him, without any concern for their lives. All he cared about was himself.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Edelgard said sternly, “But despite the fact that he was a detestable man, it would be churlish to deny his skill in battle.”

“Who cares how skilled he was?” Sylvain demanded, “What matters is what he chose to do with that skill. Think of how many people in the Kingdom he hurt, how many families he destroyed.”

“I’m not defending his actions!” Edelgard said, her features harsh, “I’m glad that he’s been put down for the sake of all who live in the Kingdom, but how could you be so flippant about the life of your only brother?”

“He was just angry that the title was going to be passed down to me instead of him! He could’ve had a perfectly fine life if he just accepted reality.” Sylvain scoffed, “Don’t get me wrong, I understand why he hated me so much, but that doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“Students, stop this.” Byleth commanded, “Both of you need to step away and cool off.” 

“So this was about your crest...” Edelgard whispered. 

Sylvain’s eyes turned back to her, “What?”

“I’ll be the first to admit that I do not know the intricacies of your family’s relations, but I was curious about Miklan’s motivations.” Edelgard said, her voice tinged with an anger Byleth was not accustomed to, “But am I right in assuming that Miklan’s inheritance was taken away from him as soon as your parents determined that you bore the Crest of Gautier?”

“You’re right about that,” Sylvain growled, “But you’re also right that you don’t know anything about my family. Miklan knew how the inheritance worked and decided to hate me before I was even born. The Margrave of Gautier has always borne our family’s Crest, thats just how it is.”

“But why? Have you never asked yourself why your family… Why everyone is so obsessed with Crests?” Edelgard snapped, standing from her seat beside the fire, “Think of what could have been if Miklan was not abandoned by your parents, how his skills could have helped Fodlan if they had been cultivated properly.”

“I don’t care!” Sylvain said forcefully, “I don’t care what could have been! What matters is what happened. What he did.”

“But he was your brother! Your only sibling!” Edelgard retaliated, “And you cut him down as if he was little more than a common criminal!”

“Enough!” Byleth shouted, standing and forcefully shoving the two students apart. “I told you to keep your emotions in check Sylvain, and I’d really rather not have to talk to Professor Manuela about this.

“And Edelgard,” she continued, turning to the princess whose eyes still burned with anger, “This isn’t your business or your fight. Drop it. Goddess help you both if I hear another word about this tonight.”

“That’s all he was in the end,” Sylvain crossed his arms, gaze locked with Edelgard’s, “He was just a thief, a liar, and a murderer. I don’t care who he was to me.”

Sylvain and Edelgard stood for a moment, the tension between them hotter than the fire beneath them. It was Edelgard who broke away first, swiftly turning on her heel towards the staircase. Hubert stood to follow but she angrily pushed him back down, stunning him briefly. By the time he had recovered, Edelgard’s retreating footsteps were already lost in the muffled din of the storm, her form lost in the darkness.

* * *

**Byleth**

The following hours were noticeably quieter. Sylvain had spent his time stewing in resentment around the furthest campfire, poking at the embers with the haft of the Lance of Ruin. Her other students had given him a wide berth in the meantime, only briefly conversing in hushed tones. Edelgard’s continued absence was palpable, and Byleth was having trouble deciding whether she was concerned or relieved.

She had decided to pass the time by downing some of the contents of her wineskin against her best judgement. While she was still staunchly opposed to drinking hard liquor, she had found that any kind of alcohol, even less intense drinks, could help her relax. And though she worried about it becoming a crutch, anything that helped her sleep was welcome these days, no matter how destructive.

Most of her students had already crawled into their bedrolls some time ago, and the few that remained looked as if they were close to doing the same. 

“Byleth?” She realized upon hearing her name that it was not the first time it had been said in the past few seconds, and she hastily stashed her wineskin in her bag before turning towards the speaker.

An exhausted Dorothea stood behind her, the lines of her concern on her face more pronounced in the dwindling firelight. She had stripped of the leather armor she commonly wore during battle, and was now dressed only in her tattered maroon robe and boots.

“Yes, Dorothea, I’m sorry,” Byleth blurted out, “What do you need?”

“I was just wondering if you had seen Edie recently…” Dorothea said quietly, glancing worriedly around the room, “I know she left after her… after the argument, but I thought she would be back by now.”

“I haven’t. I thought she had snuck back here already,” Byleth lied, standing slowly to avoid any unexpected tumbles, “We should probably try to track her down before we get some sleep.”

“Yeah…” Dorothea mumbled, “Hubie went upstairs to look for her but he hasn’t come back either, do you think some of Miklan’s bandits could still be up there?”

“I doubt it,” Byleth said as she retrieved a torch from its place on the wall, “We searched the area thoroughly before we decided to spend the night here, I’m sure they’re all either dead or have fled the tower. And if there were any alive we definitely would have heard them fighting Hubert or Edelgard.”

“You’re probably right…” Dorothea said, clearly unconvinced.

“Either way, we should find them,” Byleth continued, glancing over at one of the other campfires, “Petra, could you go to the upper floors with Dorothea to look for Hubert and Edelgard?”

“Of course Byleth!” Petra said, tone surprisingly chipper despite both the mood and the late hour. She stood quickly and came to Dorothea’s side, the two exchanging a small smile before they turned back to Byleth.

“I’ll search the bottom floor and, if necessary, the area outside the tower. At least all of the bandits up there are definitely dead.” Byleth explained, really hoping she wouldn’t have to brave the storm, “You two take a quick look around the upper floors, bring them back here if you find them.”

The women set off after Byleth handed them another torch, the sound of their ascending footsteps mirroring her own as she descended into the bottom floor of the fortress.

Part of the reason Conand Tower was so difficult for local militias to recapture was the fact that the structure was designed to funnel attackers down very specific routes. This ensured that any potential assailants would be met with a gauntlet of fortified chambers before they could even ascend to the second floor. While this did offer security and comfort to the tower’s occupants, it did make the journey out feel like stripping off a suit of armor right before a battle.

Byleth took her time exploring each chamber, making sure to cast the torchlight into any and all corners, no matter how small. She was met primarily by dry crates of stolen crops, racks of tarnished weapons, and crusty looking bedrolls, but did at one point stumble upon a rather hefty rat that scared her almost as much as she scared it.

It was as she approached the tower’s massive double doors that she saw the first light other than her own. A torch had been set in a sconce a few feet from the archway, its light barely illuminating the shape that sat huddled at the edge of the darkness. It was a flash of white hair that gave the figure’s identity away, and she saw Edelgard’s violet eyes peering towards her torch as she approached.

“Professor…” Edelgard breathed as Byleth approached. The princess had opened one side of the double doors, allowing a welcome cool breeze to enter the tower. Her torch was placed in a sconce near the closed door, it’s light just out of view of the opening.

“Hey Edelgard,” Byleth said, stopping as the edge of her torchlight met Edelgard’s, “I um… I think we should probably head back to camp so we can be ready for the trip back tomorrow.”

Edelgard looked away, her features a knot of emotions that Byleth couldn’t begin to untangle. After a handful of decidedly uncomfortable seconds, she began to speak.

“I... apologize for losing my temper earlier,” She said quietly, still refusing to meet Byleth’s gaze, “I will speak to Sylvain tomorrow morning and do my best to make amends.”

“That seems like a good idea,” Byleth murmured, “Is… everything alright? I’ve never seen you like that before.” 

Edelgard was silent for a few moments, mind clearly far, far away from the tower. “Its… hard to explain,” She mumbled.

“Just give it a try then,” Byleth said, carefully sitting down a few feet from her. Edelgard didn’t respond, her body as still as a statue.

“I know I’m just your professor, but I want you to trust me,” Byleth smiled, surprised by her own sincerity, “I’m here for you, no matter what you need.”

Edelgard finally turned her eyes towards Byleth, their dark circles unusually pronounced in the flickering light. There was something about her right now, something that Byleth was unaccustomed to.

It had taken her quite a few cycles to understand the intricacies of Claude’s expressions and unravel the myriad masks he put up to protect himself. It was more natural for him to hide his true self than it was to wear it on his sleeve. And though there were many differences between him and Edelgard, she was starting to understand that the two might share more traits than she originally thought. 

Where they diverged however was in execution. Claude’s disguises always had an air of pageantry about them, a sort of magnetic charisma that made you want to trust him, want to be around him. Edelgard by contrast always seemed like she was above it all, this untouchable personification of the might of the Adrestian Empire. She made you want to be worthy of her notice, her attention, and Goddess willing her praise.

But looking at Edelgard now, it was clear that she had laid down her mask. There was no disguise now. This was just Edelgard, a person that Byleth hadn’t really met before.

“I…” Edelgard mumbled hesitantly. There was another prolonged period of silence during which her mouth would occasionally open and close experimentally, though no further sound emerged.

“I once had ten siblings…” She said finally, “Eight older and two younger, and yet I became the heir to the throne. Do you know why?”

There was a small, drunk, and very rude part of Byleth’s mind that wanted to say it was because she had had them killed, but the more disciplined part of her mind merely encouraged her to shake her head.

“The plague that took root in the Kingdom back in 1165 resurfaced in Enbarr for a brief period, and while it was fairly swiftly dealt with, it was able to find its way into the imperial household.” Edelgard said softly, “Before we knew what was happening, several of my brothers and sisters had already succumb. In the end, I was the only survivor…

“At night I dream of them crying out to me, sometimes in anger, sometimes in pain, sometimes in grief, but always demanding to know why I was the one spared. Why I did not die with them. I can’t help but ask that same question...” She whispered. “And though I try, I can never save them, just as I couldn’t in reality. I know what happened wasn’t my fault, and that there was nothing I could have done, but knowing that doesn’t stop the nightmares.”

There was a moment of quiet during which Byleth found herself at a loss for words. Before she was forced to conjure any up however, Edelgard began to speak again, “We didn’t always have the best relationships. As you could probably imagine the imperial palace is a very competitive place, our home was a complex web of rivalries and alliances, subterfuge and petty teasing. But in the end, we were family, and that’s what really mattered.

“In a way I think I was jealous of Sylvain. I would give anything to see even one of my siblings again. And to see someone so callously slay their only brother, to not even try to reason with them… It hurt, terribly. I know their relationship was extremely different than the ones I shared with my siblings, and that I should not resent him for his choice, but these emotions still consume me. No matter what I do. No matter how I try to justify the situation.”

“I… I had no idea,” Byleth breathed, unsure of how to react to this information. She had never in any previous cycle heard anything about Edelgard having siblings, and to think that they were all killed my the same plague… in all honesty, it was a little hard to believe.

But something, perhaps it was Edelgard’s tone, or the alcohol, or the very fact that the story was so unbelievable made Byleth want to trust her. If nothing else, it seemed a grandiose story to invent.

“That is not surprising.” Edelgard sighed, “Marquis Vestra was instructed to control the spread of information about what was going on in the palace. To curb panic, he spread the details so slowly that a few years later it seemed as if the Emperor only ever had one heir. My siblings were effectively forgotten by everyone, everyone other than me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Byleth said quietly, gently reaching out to place a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. Before she could make contact however, the princess jerked away violently and a look approaching panic crossed her eyes. Byleth quickly retracted the gesture and bound her hands together tightly. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Edelgard chuckled sadly. “I didn’t imagine you would. I know my situation is… unique to say the least.” She smiled at Byleth, her tired eyes warm in the firelight, “Regardless… Thank you for hearing me out. I have told very few people that story.”

“Of course,” Byleth smiled back, “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

Edelgard turned away and closed her eyes, her breath slow and calm. It struck Byleth now how profoundly exhausted she looked, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Edelgard fell asleep right here on the hard stone floor. Before she could insist that they return to camp however, Edelgard opened her eyes.

“May I ask you something?” She said softly.

“Of course,” Byleth replied. 

“What is it that keeps you up at night?” 

“What do you mean?” Byleth asked nervously. 

“Don’t be coy,” Edelgard frowned, shifting her position slightly, “Prior to meeting you I thought it impossible that there was a person in the world who drank more coffee than Hubert. And watching you down glass after glass of wine at dinner is… a bit concerning in all honesty. I have a hard time believing that these are merely lifestyle choices.”

“You’re very observant…” Byleth chuckled hesitantly. Did she really look that tired all the time? She had thought that she looked passable at least, but on reflection she may have started to slip a bit.

“And I hear you toss and turn in the night when we camp. I can’t imagine that your lifestyle prior to working at Garreg Mach was such that you have trouble sleeping in uncomfortable conditions.” Edelgard continued, “Perhaps this is akin to having one’s eyes open in church, but I am still curious.”

“Yeah… I…” Byleth mumbled, thoughts racing through her mind. She had to lie, she knew that for a fact. But should she even share a bit of the truth? It seemed only fair given that Edelgard had shared so much about her past. But how could she say, ‘I’m trapped in an endless time loop fighting a war I can’t win and I recently learned that everything I thought I knew was wrong,’ without saying… well… that.

“Nevermind… I apologize for bringing it up.” Edelgard sighed, curling up in a tight ball. Byleth realized that she had been lost in thought for some time now, and the frustration on Edelgard’s face was clear.

“No! I’m sorry,” Byleth blurted out, “Its…”

After a moment, she began to speak again, her voice low and heavy, “Growing up in a mercenary company was… difficult. Everything felt so temporary. We were constantly on the move looking for contracts that Jeralt was willing to take on so we never stayed put for more than a month or two. I think I had seen more inn rooms by the time I was six than most people see in their entire lives.

“It wasn’t just the places though. The people felt temporary too. We were perpetually hiring new members or parting ways with old ones when they decided to leave or they…” She said, considering each word carefully, “By the time I was old enough to fight I was just… frustrated. I wanted it to stop. I wanted a constant that wasn’t my father. 

“I didn’t care if I got hurt, I barely even cared if I died. I just wanted to protect the people I cared about. To hold on to them for just a little longer…” She sighed, “But I was too reckless, too single minded. I kept making the same mistakes over and over again. I wanted to save everyone, to protect everyone… but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough. People got hurt because of what I did… people died.”

She shivered slightly as a deluge of memories crashed down onto her. “When I close my eyes at night… I see their faces. All of the people I failed. All the people who were hurt by my recklessness. I can pinpoint the moment the light left their eyes, see the fear they felt. All because of… me.”

Neither of them spoke for some time while Byleth processed what she had just revealed. The driving rain outside dulled the world around them, utterly drowning out the ambience of the forest. It was just the two of them in a world that was slowly shrinking as the torches above them began to dwindle. It was unclear just how long they sat in silence, for all Byleth knew it could have seconds, minutes, perhaps even hours, but in the end, it was Edelgard’s voice that brought her back to the present.

“I mean no offence by this, but you are far too kind-hearted to be a mercenary.” She said with a sad smile, turning her gaze towards Byleth.

Byleth's brow furrowed in confusion but she said nothing. 'Kind'... That word didn't feel right somehow. Was it really kindness that drove her to fight in the way that she did? Was it love? Empathy? That’s what she always assumed… but she wasn’t even sure of that anymore.

“I’ll admit I was intrigued by you when we first met, but worried that you would have a… well… mercenary attitude.” She continued, “To know that you were… are motivated by compassion is somewhat… comforting I suppose.”

“It was more of a burden than a blessing when I was a kid.” Byleth chuckled, “Jeralt always taught me to never compromise my morals just for a hot meal. It was important to him that I understood how serious our job was.”

“I suppose that is noble…” Edelgard said cautiously, “At least compared to many other mercenaries.”

“He… He did his best.” Byleth sighed as the torchlight caught a long, straight scar along her right forearm, a relic from a bandit ambush she had survived at the age of fifteen. It wasn’t often that she thought about the myriad scars that crossed her body. There was an entire lifetime of memories between her and those battles, and the details were so distorted by time she had forgotten where many of them had come from. In truth, they almost felt as if they belonged to someone else, someone she barely knew.

By contrast, the scars that she remembered, the ones associated with some of her most painful memories, no longer existed. She could feel them when she closed her eyes, even trace them with her finger if she put her mind to it. But there was nothing there, there never was.

“I think we should probably head back,” Byleth said as her mind drifted lazily back to the present. She pulled herself from the cool cobbles, offering a hand to Edelgard as she did. The princess stood on her own, giving no indication of whether or not she noticed Byleth’s gesture.

Edelgard reignited their torches with a simple incantation after the two pushed the heavy wooden door closed and replaced the bar. They returned to camp in silence, too exhausted to attempt to make further conversation. Byleth slipped into her bedroll after putting out the remaining campfire, already anticipating the long night of unwelcome memories she had ahead of herself. Before she could begin to fixate however, the sound of the rain calmed her mind and she fell into a deep, calm, and dreamless sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Edelgard have reached C Support! I wanted to try and find a more realistic scenario for Byleth and Edelgard to have this conversation in, and I wanted the conversation to be more of a... well... conversation, instead of Edelgard just ranting about her backstory. I also wanted to try and have Byleth not reveal the truth of her situation, but at least touch on the aspects of it that fuck with her the most (her frustration associated with the instability of her existence, her innate desire to protect others even if it puts her at risk, and her feeling of making the same mistakes over and over again.) 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story so far.


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